


The Labyrinth

by AMJohnson0518



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Angst, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 72,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMJohnson0518/pseuds/AMJohnson0518
Summary: Her neck warmed under his breath, "Granger, if you don't stop making noise I swear I will kill you myself." The war is not over. Instead, The Labyrinth, a prison to rival Azkaban, holds all those who are caught in defiance of the Dark Lord's reign. What happens when two enemies are forced to work together to escape the maze? ...Life will never be the same again. DM/HG





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This is the first story I ever wrote! I posted it on FFN years ago, and now I am uploading it here. I know there are a lot of edits needed for this work - I planned poorly years ago. That being said, I AM FINISHING IT IF IT IS THE LAST THING I DO. *whew* feels great to get that off my chest. I'll post a new chapter (with some minor grammar edits) every few days. A new chapter update will be available in mid-August. I plan on finishing the entire story early next year, and then I will do a rework/major edit of the story. 
> 
> The Labyrinth is set after the Battle of Hogwarts but ignores the ending of DH. There are some minor changes to the original plot along the way. I want to focus on keeping the relationship authentic, so there is a slowish build-up. I've kept the rating at M for now because of my plans for later chapters, but that is still subject to change. Feedback and constructive critiques are welcome. As always- I wish I owned these characters... but I don't. All characters belong to the wonderful JK. Rowling. This version of the story, however, is mine. Hope you enjoy :D (Be kind, It's my first attempt, and I know it needs work)

**Chapter 1**

There was no time to stop.

Hermione's breath burst from her chest in short gasps as she raced down the long, narrow labyrinth halls. There was no reason why her charmed cell door had suddenly sprung open. None at all. But she didn't have time to analyze that now. Every muscle in her body was focused on escape, and Hermione was going to do everything in her power to stay alive in the process. Nearing the end of the hall she took a sharp right, sprinting close to the damp stone walls, keeping hidden beneath the shadows.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins, every fiber of her being was radiating in painful protest. Months of torture and malnourishment had turned her into a weak mess of broken bones and bleeding limbs. Her once bushy hair lay flat and greasy against her scalp, tangled with dry blood. Bruises marred her arms and legs. Her already slight form now carried little more than flesh and bone.

Even with the dim light emanating from the candles, Hermione could not see more than an arm's length in front of her. She groaned. Being wandless was not helping her situation. She continued sprinting towards the end of the hall, stopping short when she reached three intersecting paths. Glancing down each one as far as she could, she was met only with total darkness.

"Shit", she muttered to herself. There was no way of knowing which was the proper way out, or, if there was a proper way at all. _Well, straight is as good a way as any_ , Hermione thought and once again she started sprinting forward, the pain in her ankles causing a slight limp in her stride.

_What are you hoping to find..._ Her mind raced as she continued down the ever-narrowing maze paths. An exit? Logically, there had to be others down here, more prisoners at the very least. She had heard their cries and whispers for months. But she still had yet to see anyone. In fact, since her capture, the only other live beings she had seen were the Death Eaters during their occasional visits to her cell. She shuddered at the memories. They were always looking for answers, any information at all about the Order's plans. The visits always ended the same though; her, defiantly slumped over in the corner of her cell, and the Death Eaters no closer to any of the precious knowledge she held.

Still running as fast as her injured body would carry her, Hermione made a quick left turn, only to connect with a solid slab of concrete; a dead end.

"No... No no no, this cannot be happening," she croaked, desperation bubbling up from the pit in her stomach. She leaned her throbbing head against the cold stone wall, her knees threatening to buckle beneath the weight of her thin frame. Exhaustion consumed her.

She sighed. They had done everything right, followed Dumbledore's last requests to the letter, and still, she was trapped in this prison. _Focus Hermione,_ her mind screamed, but she couldn't. Her thoughts drifted back to the day of her capture during the Battle of Hogwarts, the last day she had seen the outside world.

When Harry stood for his final duel with Voldemort, Hermione had felt a tingling of hope in her heart. All the Horcruxes were destroyed; Harry had made it out of the Forbidden Forest alive. The only piece left to ending this bloody war was to destroy Voldemort himself. They were supposed to be rid of the misfortunes of war, supposed to be free from persecution, free from the constant worry she felt over her loved ones...but something had gone horribly wrong in their calculations.

Neither Harry's nor Voldemort's spell reached fruition, allowing for Voldemort to take off in a billowing shadow of smoke. The surrounding scene erupted into utter chaos as Death Eaters swarmed the remaining witches and wizards. Thousands of students began to flee, frightened at the anarchy before them; curses flew only inches from Hermione's face, lighting up the castle as she tried to clear a path to Harry, who had been knocked unconscious. She remembered the sick feeling that overtook her; Hogwarts was quite literally collapsing around them, centuries of all that had been good in the world falling from the sky. Blood seeped into the ancient stones of Hogwarts, forever staining its history. She had tried to drown out the screams, and focus only on protecting Harry.

But she never made it that far. Just as she was about to reach him, a snatcher grasped her arm, dragging her body back against the rubble. Her last memory of the outside world was Ron's screaming face as the snatcher towed her struggling body towards the other Death Eaters.

Over the last few months, she had gone over this moment time and time again, replaying every detail. Voldemort must have known Dumbledore's plan all along, Hermione was sure of it. The confidence Voldemort had exuded that day went beyond his normal arrogance; his survival was guaranteed before the Battle had even occurred. And then there was the Labyrinth. _His_ Labyrinth, a prison built to rival Azkaban. It was a cage for all who defied the Dark Lord. The intricacy of this place was admittedly remarkable, Hermione thought bitterly. It must have taken months- if not years- to complete.

Although Hermione had not seen much of the prison beyond her own cell, she had heard the whispers from other prisoners around her. The Labyrinth was rumored to be made up of seven layers, buried deep beneath the earth. Although there was no indication of how deep under the ground she was, the still air was always cold. There were thought to be levels upon levels of dungeons, each confined in its own wicked maze, each filled with unspeakable horrors. And now she was stuck right in the middle of one.

Hermione knew in her gut that there was no hope for survival. No one made it through the trials of the mazes. She had heard nothing from the outside world in months, even the passing whispers from newly captured prisoners had all but seized. There was no end in sight to her punishment. She thought back to the faces of her friends constantly, wishing them all the safety she had not been afforded. Her memory was her only ally in this dark fortress.

_Hopeless, this is all hopeless._ Tears began to pool in the corners of her eyes. There was a time in her life when she would not have dreamed of letting her emotions overtake her judgment. But now, that very feeling of hopelessness had seized her heart, draining her of her courage and willpower. The Gryffindor in her was slowly being strangled under the enormous strain of the prison.

Suddenly, a noise arose from the darkness of the shadows. _Footsteps._

One set.

And then another.

Hermione's whole body tensed, panicked. She was no longer alone.

_Goddamit._ There was nowhere to go; She was trapped between the dungeon walls and the darkness.

_I can't stay here._ Hermione crept slowly towards the shadows, crouching against the wall as she went. She just barely peaked her head around the corner, the glow of the candles that had once lit this hallway was gone and she was again met by total darkness. Staying low to the ground, Hermione walked back towards the fork in the path. Every sense she possessed was on full alert; her ears intently listening for the slightest of movement, and her eyes squinting to see through the darkness.

Her head peeked around another corner, and then she saw them. Two tall, dark shadows had just begun to move stealthily down one of the adjacent hallways. Death Eaters if she ever saw any. She jumped back against the wall. _Just my bloody luck._

"Oye, any news?" A hushed whisper came from under one of the black hoods.

"The attack has been stopped, but two of the prisoners are still unaccounted for," An aristocratic voice sighed, seemingly bored with the man walking beside him. Hermione stayed completely silent, straining to hear any information. Attack? Was the Order here? Her heart jumped.

"Then what are we doing down here 'ay? They won't get very far without wands," the first man snickered darkly. "It's a long way up from here, why don't we just let the beasts have some fun and be on our way?"

The second man scoffed, clearly disdained with the conversation, and kept slowly gliding down the hallway.

"Need I remind you that the Dark Lord will not be happy if that filthy mudblood manages to escape?"

"And the boy, your-"

" _Neither of them makes it out of here alive_ ," A hard, frigid edge crept into the man's tone, "Do I make myself clear?"

"But... the plans for the girl? I was rather looking forward to seeing the mudblood suffer. Shouldn't we at least keep her alive?"

"Our orders were clear. The Dark Lord no longer has use for her. His mission is almost complete...the Order will not survive much longer." Pride and malice saturated the aristocratic man's words. Hermione shuddered; she could hear his smile.

Just as they had begun to move further down the hall out of her sight, Hermione's ankle suddenly gave out, causing her to lose balance and crumble to the dungeon floor with a resounding echo. Her heart sank, silently cursing her bad fortune. _Fuck._

_"_ What was that?"

She heard the footsteps begin moving closer to her, their booming like war drums ringing through her ears. Attempting to scramble to her feet, she reached up, grabbing at the stone wall for support.

_Keep moving._ She pulled herself up, limping around the corner towards the only other available hallway. The sound of their footsteps quickened. Without turning around she knew they were gaining on her.

Her legs were weak. Her body was weak. She continued to sprint through the dark labyrinth passages, taking a sharp turn, and then another...only to be faced with a dead end. Hermione skidded to a stop before colliding with the wall.

This was it. Any remaining hope that she had been clinging on to quickly faded. Resignation fell upon her, causing her shoulders to droop. There was truly no way out this time. She turned around, waiting for the two dark hooded figures to come thundering down the hall. The faces of Harry and Ron crept into her mind. _Please let them be okay. Please let this all be worth it._ Hermione closed her eyes, accepting her fate.

That was, until a cold, bony hand wrapped around her mouth from behind. A tall lean body tugged her back in the direction of the dead end. Hermione managed to turn around just in time to see a flash of blonde hair as she was pulled back through the dungeon wall. And in one fell swoop, everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione struggled against the hard, lean figure holding her. _Where am I?_ She let out a groan as her back was roughly slammed against a stone wall. Total blackness enveloped her, and her eyes strained to make sense of her surroundings. Exhausted, her body failed to throw off her assailant as he pressed her harder into the wall, his legs preventing her own from kicking. Never before had she missed her wand more; her chest heaved in time with his, already fatigued from their struggle.

With his hand still covering her mouth, the man leaned in, his lips hovering mere centimeters above her ear. Her neck warmed under his breath.

"Granger, if you don't stop making noise I swear I will kill you myself." Ice froze her veins. _Malfoy._ She could recognize that entitled voice anywhere. Despite his proximity, his voice was barely above a whisper, and she strained to understand him. "Be absolutely still."

_Two prisoners..._ The Death Eaters had said that _two_ prisoners were still unaccounted for. Hermione's muddled brain began working furiously to make sense of her situation. Malfoy was a prisoner? She looked up, appraising him with her inquisitive gaze. Although he had always been rather thin, he was now positively emaciated. His aristocratic features were gaunt; protruding cheekbones and heavy bags made his eyes looked wide set against his ghostly pale skin. A cut marred his left cheek and his usual slicked back hair was now falling in front of his tired silver eyes. While she had only ever seen him adorned in the finest robes, he was covered in nothing more than a tattered black t-shirt and slacks. There was no doubt he was a prisoner.

" _Where is she_?" A muffled voice on the other side of the wall faintly echoed. Hermione shifted her head as far as she could, despite Malfoy's hand tightly covering her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that the wall behind her was nearly transparent; hazy shadows moved on the other side of the wall, only feet from where she and Malfoy were standing. _Some of the walls must be enchanted_ , Hermione surmised. Fascinating.

"Are you sure she went this way?" One of the Death Eaters huffed out.

"Well clearly she didn't you idiot, it's a dead end. The Dark Lord is expecting us back. The snatchers will be down shortly to deal with this mess anyway. The mudblood won't get far."

The footsteps on the other side of the wall slowly faded until they could no longer be heard. The silence was comforting, and she attempted to let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, to no avail. Her body was still pinned against the wall, Malfoy's bony hand over her mouth. Ice grey eyes met her brown ones, both visibly shaken by their close encounter with the Death Eaters.

She moved to push his thin body away. Draco quickly removed his hand from her mouth, taking a step back abruptly, as though he had just been burned. With him no longer holding her body up, Hermione slid down the wall and into a heap on the ground. Hermione looked up through her narrowed eyes which had finally begun to adjust to the darkness. She feared her heart rate would never return to normal.

"What, Granger... I don't get a thank you? Still an ungrateful bitch I see." Even while whispering, his voice still retained its signature smugness.

"You... you're a prisoner?" Thoughts raced through Hermione's head at a dizzying pace. For the first time in her life, she didn't know where to begin, words failed her, and not because she chose to remain silent. Uncharacteristically confused, she stared at Malfoy, waiting for him to explain himself. _This ought to be good..._

"Yes, well the Dark Lord doesn't take kindly to blood traitors," Malfoy sarcastically responded, clearly unwilling to divulge any more detail. "We should keep moving." Hermione contemplated his words, her mouth hanging open. Traitor? _We?_

"Why should I go anywhere with _you_?" Hermione spat out, "What the hell is going on Malfoy. One minute I'm sitting in my cell, and the next you're pulling me through enchanted walls. And now you're asking me to follow you? _I don't trust you."_ Hermione's tone was cold, but the words tumbled from her mouth in a rush, her panic evident. From the expression he was giving her, Hermione estimated that Malfoy knew little more than she did about their current situation. "Where in the bloody hell are we?"

Malfoy went to respond, presumably with one of his nasty remarks, and then paused. His gaze turned to one of rare pity, seizing up her current state. Hermione knew she must look pathetic, confused and weak as she was; bloody and battered from months of neglect. Her own attire was little more than a sweater that had once fit but was now hanging loosely off her thin shoulders, and a pair of ripped up jeans. Suddenly self-conscious, she attempted to smooth her hair and tried to pull herself up from the floor. Malfoy made no attempt to help her, continuing instead to remain silent.

"Are you deaf?" Hermione began with more confidence, "What is this place Malfoy? Surely a Death Eater like yourself-" 

"You don't know what you're talking about-" Malfoy's eyes illuminated with anger as he interrupted her. 

"Just answer my questions, Malfoy, we don't have time for this," Hermione's voice rose above his, cutting him off.

He sighed, and the anger dissipated slightly from his eyes. "We're in the Labyrinth. I'm sure even a dimwitted muggle such as yourself has heard the rumors." Malfoy's smooth voice lowered, "I have no idea where exactly we are, but I imagine we are still on the floor where the prisoners are kept, about four, maybe five levels down."

Hermione ignored his insults, choosing instead not to waste time. "Any ideas on how to get out of here?" Malfoy paused, a second of fear awakening in his eyes. He shook his head, dropping his gaze.

_Great, as usual, the git is no help._

He grunted in annoyance at her probing stare, running his fingers through his hair. "Are you done? We will figure it out along the way, but I suggest we keep moving. The snatchers will be looking for us soon." For as nonchalant as he was trying to sound, Hermione could sense his urgency. But why did he want to bring her along? She turned to ask him but realized he was already almost out of eyesight, moving through the shadows ahead. She groaned, frustrated at his vagueness. And yet despite her better judgment, she began running to catch up with him.

They walked in silence for what seemed like hours, completely alone to their thoughts. The silence, which had been comforting earlier, was now maddening. Hermione had always found solace in quiet. As a child, she could spend hours alone in her room, lost in a book, blanketed by the silence. But this was different. This was unnerving. Even though she was not alone, she was terrified. Her brain, deprived of proper sustenance and sleep, was playing tricks on her. More than once, she felt as though she heard breathing coming from behind her, and the shadows that danced on the walls taunted her fragile state of mind. Her heart rate had yet to come down from its consistent pounding in her chest. She rubbed her bruised arms, absentmindedly wondered how Malfoy was holding up ahead of her. As much as she despised him, she was glad that she wasn't alone.

Even though her legs were exhausted, she kept thinking back to the snatchers. Her last run-in with them had been during the Battle of Hogwarts, and before that, it had been when Ron accidentally led them right to their camp after speaking Voldemort's name. A shiver coursed up her spine. Those were the snatchers that had brought the Golden Trio to Malfoy Manor, the night Bellatrix had tortured her. Her pace quickened at the memory. She had no interest in ever seeing them again. No, she had to keep moving despite the protest from her body.

A thought suddenly popped into Hermione's head.

"Malfoy," she cautiously began, "Why didn't the Death Eaters know about the enchanted wall?" Draco turned back slightly, allowing Hermione to catch up so he could keep his voice low.

"The Labyrinth was never meant for Death Eaters to control. The Dark Lord intended for it to be self-regulating, the monsters within would keep order, much like the dementors at Azkaban." He paused, choosing his next words carefully, "I also think it has something to do with him not wanting his Death Eaters to know how to escape, should he ever need to lock them up." Hermione, still surprised at the information he was openly sharing, chose not to push her luck, and mulled over everything she currently knew.

It was clear that they were walking through a maze, though, they had yet to run into the monsters that were rumored to be patrolling... _Not that she was complaining_. But that still did not answer her original question. Why had only her and Malfoy's cell doors opened? Surely it was not random. There had to be a reason, sinister or not, as to why they were both the only prisoners currently walking around. Staying close to Malfoy, Hermione considered their situation. The stone walls were growing taller the more they walked, and every now and again they would hit a dead end and have to turn back around. It was getting dizzying. With little light and no way to sense their direction, Malfoy and Hermione continued, lost amongst the darkness.

"This is ineffective" Hermione hissed after another hour of walking. "Malfoy, we need a plan. We are going to walk ourselves to death..."

"And what, pray tell, do you suggest we do, Granger?" Malfoy growled, sounding just as frustrated as she was.

"I don't know but this isn't workin-"

"Brightest witch of our age? Laughable," Malfoy taunted.

Just as Hermione was about to respond, a howl reverberated through the dungeon, powerful enough to shake the stone walls. They both tensed for only a moment before Malfoy broke out into a run. Hermione followed, running yet again away from the danger that surrounded them. There was no escaping it.

Just as they rounded yet another corner, Draco jerked to a stop, causing Hermione to run straight into his solid back.

"Fuck", Malfoy whispered, oblivious to the fact that she had just crashed into him. The path in front of them was blocked with a hazy golden cloud of smoke, that offered no way around it. Hermione squinted her eyes shut, and rubbed her hands against her temples. At one time, she had known the answer to this problem, if only she could just remember. While she furiously thought, another howl echoed around them.

"Limbo mist..." Hermione murmured to herself. "Malfoy," she excitedly continued, "I know what this is. Remember the Tri-Wizard Tournament? What if the Labyrinth is set up in a similar fashion as that? I mean...at least this level could be. Harry told me about a cloud of dust that inverted the world during the third task-"

"Lovely..." Malfoy huffed under his breath, sounding less than enthused.

Hermione ignored him. "...if this maze is similar to the tournament, it would mean we have to walk towards the middle of the maze. What if there is a portkey there? That is how Voldemort did it before." Malfoy considered her words. He hated to admit it, but this was the only good idea that they had between the two of them. While he would never show her his vulnerability, his body ached, and he did not know how much energy left he had to keep walking forward. If they could find the middle of the maze... this might just work. _Dammit Granger,_ Draco thought. There would be no living with her after this.

"Is this safe to walk through?" He glanced nervously behind him, as though waiting to see a snatcher at any moment.

Hermione nodded her head. "Yes, but we have to move quickly. Everything will invert, but it is luckily not permanent."

Looking slightly nauseated, Malfoy motioned ahead. "Ladies first." Hermione had the urge to stick her tongue out at him for ever questioning her status as the brightest witch of their age, but thought better of it. _The coward._ She moved into the cloud of mist in front of her, and her stomach abruptly lurched forward. Hermione tried to stay calm, but she was frozen with fear. She hated heights. _Just keep moving. Just keep moving._ Malfoy nudged her back with his hand, pushing her to continue. She took a deep breath, and as quickly as she could, walked forward. The feeling of vertigo was intense, and it took all of her focus to stay on target.

When they finally emerged on the other side of the mist, and the world had righted itself again. But there was no time to celebrate and Hermione gasped.

In front of them, rows of cell doors lined the long hallway. There had to be over one hundred prison cells. There were no windows on the solid steel doors and no handles. The silence was eerie. Hermione was accustomed to the screams and cries of others. Perhaps these cells were empty? With her luck, it was doubtful. Taking slow steps forward, she followed Malfoy, who was already halfway towards the other end of the room. The sick feeling that overtook her stomach was not because of the limbo mist. Why did she deserve to be on this side of the prison doors? Malfoy, oblivious to Hermione's turmoil, was making no effort to slow his steps, intent on continuing to move forward.

"Wait...Malfoy wait! We have to help them!" Hermione protested, desperation evident in her words. What made her life worth more than theirs? Isn't that how this whole mess had begun, with people thinking they were superior to one another? Draco scowled, his silver eyes narrowing.

"I don't _have_ to do anything. I owe them nothing, Granger," Draco spat out through clenched teeth, eyeing her with scorn. "Maybe in your fantasy world you lead them all to safety, but I live in a world where it is every wizard for himself. You're not as brilliant as everyone thinks you are if you are seriously even considering this. You can stay and get yourself killed for all I care, but I value my life. Do you really think they would do the same for you?" Draco sneered, turning on one foot and continuing quickly in the other direction.

"You really are nothing but a coward, Malfoy. They are innocent witches and wizards. How can you live with yourself?" Hermione demanded, anger bubbling in her chest. His sense of entitlement was astonishing, she groaned. _Nothing has changed._ The frustration from her entire stay in the Labyrinth overtook her. The world around her shrunk into darkness, and she began to rub her temples. She sighed. Deep in her heart, in a place she was not yet willing to acknowledge, she knew that he was right; and nothing infuriated her more. They had no idea where they were going themselves. How could she lead everyone else to safety? Would she be able to avoid detection with a group of prisoners? No. Hermione knew the risk of taking prisoners with them. Her own mind was becoming exhausting, but still, Hermione took another moment to think, weighing out her options. A decision had to be made, and quickly.

The boy that had made her life miserable since her arrival at Hogwarts was now the person she would have to rely on for her survival. The thought was beyond frightening. Even after all that had happened to him, after experiencing true evil, he was still an arrogant, selfish bastard. A true Slytherin. But could she trust him? He was infuriating yes... but perhaps not evil. Hermione had seen firsthand his trepidation toward the violence his father and aunt reveled in. While his aunt tortured her on his parlor floor, Hermione remembered the look of disgust on his face. His nails dug into his shaking hands, and his normally pale skin was green. There was no doubt to her that while he was a bastard, he gained no pleasure from violence. He was lost, maybe, but not evil. When Hermione had tried to bring this up to Ron and Harry, they scoffed, convinced that he was the same as the rest of the Death Eaters. After her conversation with them, she decided to keep her thoughts about the Malfoy heir to herself, still sure that he was not as malevolent as everyone thought.

Oblivious to the Gryffindor girl's internal struggle over his character, Malfoy kept moving forward. War was hard, war meant sacrifice. No one, he thought, knew that better than he did. But even he had limits. What he was unwilling to sacrifice was his own life. Guilt was not an emotion he felt often, and this was no exception. The witch behind him had a bleeding heart, a sign of weakness.

"Malfoy," Hermione called after him, curiosity evident in her voice, "Why did you save me?"

Hermione watched as his steps came to a slow halt, his back still facing her. He refused to turn around. _Why did I save her?_ It had been an instant reaction really, one that he had not properly thought out. The moment he had seen her on the other side of the enchanted wall, he stuck his hand through the wall without thinking. He shook his head. Stupid witch. He didn't have time for her nonsense questions.

"If you want to make it out of here alive, I suggest we move quickly. Your stupidity is going to get us both killed," Malfoy retorted, condescension lacing his already icy tone.

She sighed. Still wary of his intentions but seeing no other options, Hermione followed after the moody Slytherin. The single cry of a woman echoed against the stone as Hermione followed Draco out of the dungeon hall. If they ever got out of here, there would be no forgiving herself.


	3. Chapter 3

After leaving the prisoners behind, Hermione and Draco walked on in silence, both just as lost in their thoughts as they were in the Labyrinth. To say Hermione was angry was an understatement. How could he be so cold, so uncaring? His self-preservation knew no bounds...but he did have a point, which only served to further frustrate her. There truly was nothing she could do, especially without her wand. Tears pricked her eyes. The day had been taxing, both mentally and physically. Her heart ached for those she could not save, and it took every fiber of her being not to turn back. From running for her life to having to rely on a man who hated the very blood that ran through her veins, Hermione was reaching her limit. Exhaustion crept on the edges of her consciousness, clouding her normally rational thought process. She needed rest. At Hogwarts, Hermione had been able to stick her nose in a book all night to study, requiring little to no sleep. But something about the Labyrinth drained her of all mental energy. Her brain felt heavy in her skull.

Hermione stopped, slowly sliding down against the wall beside her. She couldn't go on any longer without a break. Her eyes fluttered shut. Noticing the silence behind him, Draco turned around and saw her sitting on the ground.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" He growled, his voice gruff from lack of use.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I need a moment Malfoy. My body...I'm too tired," Hermione yawned. Every movement she made was pure pain. "We need a plan, we've been at this for far too long. How do we find the middle of the maze?"

"I don't know, but I've had enough with your stupidity, Granger. We cannot stop here. I want nothing more than to get as far away from you, and the sooner we get out of here the sooner I can get what I want. Now stand up, we are going." Draco's tone was final, dripping with pure aristocracy. He turned to continue moving, but Hermione was not having it. _The nerve of that insufferable man._

"Let's get one thing straight Malfoy, no one asked you to be in charge," Hermione bit back. "We need a few minutes to think through what we are doing."

"You don't think I'm not in just as much fucking pain as you are, princess?" Draco sneered, "Trust me- "   
  
A sharp laugh bubbled up from Hermione's throat, effectively cutting him off. "Good. I'm glad you're in pain. You deserve every ounce of it." Hermione's eyes narrowed, her body growing taut with every word that came from his mouth. Perhaps his arrogance knew no bounds, but her anger toward him had no limits either. Before he could open his mouth to object, she continued.

"You've been nothing but an arse your whole life, and I'm glad you finally got to feel pain for all of your rotten decisions. Those people back there, they didn't...They don't deserve to be here. Them, I would trust, but you... _I will never trust you,_ " Hermione choked out, her voice raw with anger and grief.

Draco rounded back on Hermione. His eyes were deadly angry, like that of a fox; cunning, icy, calculating. He took a step closer, reaching down and grasping her slim arms. In one smooth motion, he heaved her up, dragging her back against the wall. His fingertips felt cold and surprisingly soft against her bruised skin, but his grip was undeniably hard. He lifted her until she was upright. Draco was towering over her, his toes nearly touching hers. While he was thin, his height was still impressive, and she noticed the top of her head barely grazed above his shoulders. She could not stop staring at his stony eyes, mere inches from her own. Over the year they had not been at Hogwarts, Draco had certainly matured; his jawline was sharp, emphasizing his aristocratic features. Weight aside, Draco was still intimidating as ever, living up to the Malfoy reputation.

"Don't you _ever_ tell me I deserved this, do you understand me?" Malfoy's voice never rose above a whisper, but the venom dripping from his words made her blood run cold. A shiver coursed down Hermione's slender back. Draco must have seen the slight fear in her eyes because, despite his anger, he smirked in victory.

"That mark on your arm says otherwise," Hermione replied coolly, nodding down to the ugly black blotch that marred his perfectly pale complexion. The smirk on Draco's face vanished, but the anger did not.

Draco let go of Hermione's arms, just now realizing how close they were really standing. Never taking his eyes off of hers, he took a step back, and then another. Finally, he turned on one heel and glided down the hallway out of sight, leaving Hermione alone in the Labyrinth.  
  


* * *

_Why did you save me?_

The longer Draco lost his way through the maze, the louder Granger's earlier question rang in his ears.

_Why did you save me?_

Draco knew he was an intelligent man, more so than the average person, but, from the moment his prison cell unlocked, he was still struggling to come up with a logical rationale behind his decisions. If he was going to be honest with himself, he knew he felt better when Granger had been here with him. The darkness had always bothered Draco. His childhood had been lived in the dark, where shadows had a tendency to come alive in his imagination. So yes, he had to admit he was dismayed by these dark halls.

Perhaps he had saved her because he knew she was valuable, being the Gryffindor princess, muggle-born best friend of Potter. She'd make for an excellent bartering tool should he ever the need to save himself. _Yes. That must be it!_ After all, his self-preservation came first and foremost. He'd grown up knowing that from the time he was a small child.

_No_ , Draco let out a breath, muttering to himself. He was a cunning liar, but the one person he could not lie to was himself. Truly, he could make no sense of why he had actively chosen to rely on the girl, to go so far as to risk his own safety for hers.

Of all the people he abhorred in this world, Granger was certainly a contender for first. Contrary to what everyone thought- what he had led everyone to believe- his hatred for her was not because of her blood status. Draco only spent a brief portion of his past subscribing to the blood purity ideology his father lived by. His distaste for Granger had little to do with the fact he felt her _inferior_ , but instead because she somehow always managed to be _superior_. Her grades, her logic, how she was always just that little bit ahead of him, wounded his pride. He spent most of the time wishing she had never been born to torture his jealous ego. Having to explain to his father how a muggle-born had gained the title of "brightest witch of their age" would forever be his least favorite activity.

While there was no denying her intelligence, her haughty, know-it-all attitude sent Malfoy's blood reeling. How dare she think she know anything about him? Martyrdom never helped anyone in situations such as these. What good was trying to escape if they ended up dead? She needed to sort out her priorities. She might have been right to sit down though, Draco absently thought as a sharp pain shot up from his ankle. Having little energy left to move forward, Draco leaned against the walls and let out a groan. Somewhere in the darkness searching for them, there were snatchers, and Draco could hardly keep his feet moving forward. The Labyrinth certainly had weakened him.

Truth be told, Hermione's plan had not been a bad one. Not well thought out, but it was the only shot they had at escape. Each endless passage held its own dark secrets. Since Draco had left Hermione he had dealt with nothing but darkness though. _Curious_ , Draco thought. It seemed impossible that he should be able to walk for so long without running into something malevolent. But perhaps...perhaps he had yet to run into any of the rumored monsters because he was heading in the wrong direction. It would make logical sense that the closer one came to escape, the harder the Labyrinth would fight against them. _Which means_...

Out of the darkness came a sharp female shriek.

_Granger_.

She had been going the right way. She was in danger. Draco instinctively took a step forward to run, and then paused.

If he took this step he could no longer justify saving her simply as his own will to survive. The line between helping her because it was beneficial to himself, and helping her because he felt a duty to do so was becoming blurry. Draco shut his eyes, taking in a deep steadying breath. _Fuck._ It must have just been the stress getting to him. That was it. Another sob reverberated through his ears.

Despite his thoughts, Draco took off running down the stone hallway, following the sounds of her cries.

Draco chased her sobs down the hallway, the echo causing distant memories to flash across his consciousness, bringing him back to Malfoy Manor. Draco had been present when Bellatrix had turned her wand on Hermione. The sobs ripping through Hermione's throat were eerily similar to the ones streaming down the hallway now. At the time, Draco had wanted nothing more than to scream out for his aunt to stop, but knew he would put his mother and himself in grave danger should he intervene. Even though Hermione had always stroked his jealous ego, and challenged his pride, in his heart he knew good from evil; Bellatrix, Voldemort, the whole lot of them were nothing but evil. Watching innocent bystanders get tortured was not something Draco could stomach, it challenged his noble sensibilities. He had never meant for any of this to happen, and the Labyrinth was a constant reminder of how his childhood had been one vast blunder. He grew up on the wrong side of history, and he was suffering the consequences.

Her cries were getting louder, she was so very close now. Draco slowed. If the snatchers had gotten to her, he would have to approach with caution, staying as hidden as possible until he could come up with a better plan. Without a wand, he felt helpless. Keeping close to the prison walls, he edged up to the next turn and listened. He could hear no one else but Granger crying. Draco sucked in his breath, and slowly peeked his head around the corner. What he saw next was unexpected.

Hermione was sitting in the middle of a dead-end hallway, crouched on the ground. Her hands were stroking the stone slabs beneath her feet, gently moving back and forth. She positioned her body as if she were cradling something, her tears flowing freely down her face. The sobs raking through her were causing her body to sway. Draco had seen the look of pain on Hermione's face when Bellatrix had used the unforgivable curse on her, and the look on her face now was an exact image of that. A large, ornate mirror was standing tall against the dead-end wall behind Hermione, the inscription _Seramthgin_ written in golden letters above it. Cautiously, Draco moved forward.

"Granger?" Draco questioned hesitantly, "What is going on?" He kept his body taut, readying himself in case of attack, but it never came. Hermione seemingly could not hear his words, lost by whatever sight she was seeing in front of her. "Her.. Hermione?" Draco pleaded again, still to no avail.

As Draco crept gradually toward Hermione, he noticed movement coming from inside the mirror. Startled, he glanced up, his heart rate quickening in his chest. At that moment, his father appeared in the mirror, stepping in front of the reflection. Lucius stopped, impatiently calling for someone behind him before stepping out through the mirror and into the real world. Draco gasped, abruptly stepping back. _No fucking way._ All words left Draco, his speechless body frozen with fear. He rubbed his eyes, hoping the image of his father would disappear, but when Draco's eyes fluttered back open, nothing had changed.

Lucius stood tall and proud before Draco, his regal stature commanding authority and respect. His icy grey eyes, eyes similar to Draco's, glanced back toward the mirror again. From behind the mirrored realm, a young Draco appeared. He could not have been more than eleven, dressed in Hogwarts robes donning the Slytherin house colors. The young Draco stepped out of the mirror, taking a place beside Lucius. Lucius smirked down at the young Malfoy heir, his eyes never losing their cool detachment. Unexpectedly, the young Malfoy boy began to change. Draco watched as the young image of himself grew before his eyes; twelve years, thirteen, twenty, until finally the young Malfoy before him was a man. Draco was staring at an older image of himself, an image that looked shockingly the same as Lucius, dressed in typical Death Eater garb. The eyes of his father never left the now older Malfoy heir during his transformation.

The Draco of the real world could not believe the scene before him. This felt so real. _Was this real?_ Draco often had nightmares of becoming his father, of their twisted forms becoming one, with Draco forever trapped in the life his father had set before him. Now, it was a reality, dancing before Draco's eyes. Draco looked around. He was all alone in the hallway except for Lucius and the older image of himself. Where had Hermione gone? Why would she leave him to deal with his father alone? Draco began to turn around when out of the corner of his eye, he again caught movement from in the enchanted mirror.

From beyond the mirror, a young woman nervously stepped out, dressed in muggle clothing. Her eyes radiated fear, her body trembling. Lucius motioned to the older Malfoy, a wicked grin spreading across his face. The older Malfoy heir nodded, pulling a wand out of his pocket.

"C _rucio_ ", the mirror image of Draco whispered. " _Filthy mudblood_." Again, Draco noticed the similar silky, detached tones of his father's voice, as if the young Draco had grown into an exact copy of Lucius. The attractive young girl in front of Draco sank to the ground, writhing in unimaginable pain. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears streaking her cheeks. Draco could not help but think of Hermione on the day she had been brought to Malfoy Manor. This woman had similar dainty features, and the look of hurt on her face, the way her body shook, was the same.

"No. STOP! Please don't do this. What are you doing to her?" Draco screamed. The older version of himself took no heed, throwing curse after curse at the muggle woman before him. Blood started to pool behind the woman's eyes. Her skull cracked with a resounding echo against the stone hallway, and blood slowly seeped out, pooling around Draco's feet. Draco's older image cruelly laughed at the woman's pain, laughed as the life faded from her eyes. When Draco looked upon the older incarnation of himself, all he could see was his father staring back at him. The mirror had produced the nightmare trapped in Draco's subconscious and played it out before him. _He had grown up to become his father._ Draco dropped to his knees, crawling over to the woman to help.

Just as he was about to reach the woman, a hand reached out from behind him and grasped his shoulder. "Malfoy? Malfoy, step back." The thin hand tugged on his shirt, breaking his trance from the mirror. "Draco it's in your head. Look at me, dammit!"

Draco blinked. The scene before him disappeared. Gone was Lucius, and the older image of himself. The blood vanished from the tiles, as had the muggle woman. Draco sank back, pushing his body until his back was flush against the freezing Labyrinth wall. His breathing was labored. It took another moment before Draco realized the scene that had played out before him was not real.

"What the bloody hell was that? Where did Lucius go?" Draco gasped out, still trying to focus his eyes on the empty Labyrinth hall.

"I... I don't know honestly," Hermione whispered. "Lucius? You saw Lucius?" Her voice still sounded distant, lost in thought about the terrors she had just seen. Draco looked at her ashen face, her body was still trembling. She hadn't see Lucius?

"He was right bloody here. And... and the woman. She..." Draco's normally silken voice caught in his throat. "What did you see?"

Before Hermione got a chance to even process his question, a sinister laugh barked from behind them. Draco jumped to his feet, and both he and Hermione turned to face the intruder.

Before them, Scabior stood, adorning the typical ragged, dirty clothing of the snatchers. His eyes were bloodshot, and unadulterated joy was dripping from his being. His sneer accompanied him as he took slow steps down the hall. 

Draco was first to break the silence, stopping Scabior in his tracks. "So it's true then, Voldemort is really so afraid of a muggle-born and a Malfoy that he sent his best, didn't he? I'm touched." Scabior looked up to see Malfoy trying to maintain his facade of indifference. Hermione glanced at Malfoy, desperately wishing she could read his thoughts. There was no escape, they had no wands, and the mirror behind them... _the mirror_. Hermione's mind churned into action. Could they use the weapons the maze had set out for them?

" 'ello, 'ello! Look who we 'ave 'ere! Too bad your father isn't 'ere, e'd love to see what I 'ave in store for you," Scabior snickered, his mangled hair falling in wisps in front of his eyes. Hermione took a step back, reaching her hand back to grasp the mirror. If she could just pull it forward...

"Ah ah ah, what do you think you're doing?" Scabior pointed his wand toward Hermione. "Typical Mudblood 'eh? You never know when to stay still. _Imperio."_ Draco watched as Hermione's body froze, her eyes going blank. "Why don't you 'ave a little walk hmm?" Hermione instantly complied, walking forward down the hall toward Scabior.

"I could make you do this until you die you know," Scabior viciously spat out. "Or, I could tell you to stop 'n bash your head in on the wall." Again Hermione complied, turning to walk toward the wall. She angled her head, pulling it back ready to complete his command. "You're a pretty little thing aren't you though? Perhaps I'll take a closer look before you kill yourself." Draco watched as Hermione turned, stepping until she was inches away from the snatcher. Scabior looked down with venom in his eyes as her hand went under the hem of her sweater to grasp for the buttons on her jeans. Slowly, she started to unzip them.

Draco watched on in absolute horror, frozen with indecision. He had to do something. Granger had been reaching toward the mirror when Scabior had cursed her, perhaps...Suddenly Draco made sense of her actions. If he could just get Scabior close enough to the mirror, he could finish her plan. Hermione had started to work her jeans down over her hips, her skin visible from under her sweater. No, Draco didn't have time to lure Scabior to him. Reaching behind him, Draco grasped the mirror, tilting it slowly forward until it started to tip away from the wall. The mirror leaned forward ever so slightly, before gaining speed, crashing toward the ground. Scabior, who moments before had his eyes fixated on Hermione, looked up just in time to see the mirror smash into thousands of pieces against the stone floor. Glass shard flew everywhere, momentarily distracting the snatcher. Draco lunged forward, grabbing for the wand Scabior had dropped. Scabior, realizing the situation unfolding around him made a dive for the wand as well, but before he could, Hermione broke from the curse, quickly dropping to the ground and grasping a large shard of glass. In a matter of seconds, she lifted the glass shard up, cutting her own hands before driving it directly into Scabior's chest. Scabior stepped back, looking down to watch his dark blood leak out from beneath his robes. Anger pulsed through Draco's veins as he lifted the snatcher's wand.

" _Avada Kedavra."_ Draco had never before been able to complete this curse, but looking at Scabior, a man representative of everything wrong in this world, Draco did not hesitate. A green flash emanated from the wand, and when Draco looked forward, Scabior lay dead on the ground, blood still oozing from the wound in his chest.

Hermione leaned back against the Labyrinth wall, clutching her bleeding hands. Her breathing was heavy, and her eyes were pinched shut in anguish. Draco quickly walked over to her.

"Are you alright?" Draco demanded with concern that Hermione had never heard before evident in his voice. Hermione opened her eyes, staring at him. His normally cool grey eyes were on fire. She gave a weak nod, unable to find words yet. Reaching forward, Draco grasped her hands. She released a hiss of pain from her lips. "This will only hurt for a second," Draco muttered, pointing Scabior's wand at her hands. Before him, the blood stopped flowing down her delicate wrists, and the deep cuts began to heal shut.

"Thank you," Hermione's weak voice whispered out. She glanced down at her hand resting against Draco's open palm. His pale skin felt cold and clammy against her own. Hermione considered their asinine situation. Their need for survival outweighed all else, all other previous history between the two of them was slowly easing into the background. Despite his arrogance, and despite his hatred of her, she could not imagine a better person to attempt to escape this place. Thinking back to her days spent with Harry and Ron, Hermione knew that they never quite had the ability to sense Hermione's plans as Draco had. His own intelligence matched her own, and for that, she was grateful. They would need it to survive.

Draco's face flushed slightly, and he chose to ignore her words, pulling his hands out from under her own. "We need to get out of here, there may be more coming." Hermione looked up thinking back to earlier. He had only tried to help her, and she had been nasty to him based on their old prejudices.

"I'm sorry about what I said before... about your mark. I don't think you ever really meant to take it, did you?" Hermione's thoughts flashed back to Scabior. No, Malfoy certainly did not mix well with that sort. Something about his demeanor was above that type of evil. He certainly had matured beyond what she thought was possible. He was no longer the bully of Hogwarts. He was shockingly tolerable.

"Are you coming or not?" Draco stated, breaking Hermione out of her thoughts. He wanted more than anything for her to forget the mark on his arm. Hermione looked at him, and he felt as though she had never looked at him this way before like she was trying to read his soul. After all that had happened, he refused to give any indication of his life prior to the prison, wanting nothing more than to just forget everything that had happened.

Hermione paused for a moment, considering whether or not she should push Draco for more information, but she decided against it. His current vulnerability made her uneasy when compared to his normal self-assuredness, and she recognized this as an unfair time to press him for any more information. Hermione took one last glance down at the mark on his arm. It was dark black, with angry, raised red edges. Draco followed her eyes and pulled his arm out of her view.

"What do you want to hear Granger? That I got thrown in here because I wanted to be some bleeding heart martyr? That I refused to follow the Dark Lord's orders? You are right Hermione, I am not a good man. Maybe I did deserve this. But please...don't you ever question my trustworthiness again. I believe I've more than proven myself. Now, are you coming or not?" Draco could not stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. But, why of all things had he said that? Of all the things that bothered him about this day, it was Granger's lack of trust in him that stung worst. Really, there was no reason for it to bother him. He hadn't exactly been the kindest to her over the years, and he certainly was not looking for the muggle-born's approval. Draco watched her eyebrow arch in curiosity over her expressive face, unhurriedly taking in his own confused one. He really had to stop thinking so much.

"Trust isn't a right Malfoy... you have to earn it." Hermione whispered, still processing his words. The last few hours had been hell. But a small piece of her had to admit she would be dead without him... or worse, she shuddered. Whatever his intentions, Hermione could not deny the fact that the selfish man before her had acted entirely against her expectations for him. He did not have to come to her aid, and yet at great personal risk to himself, he did. She sighed. The complexity to Malfoy ran as deep as the Labyrinth itself, shrouded in secrecy. Could she trust him? If they were going to make it out of here alive, she realized she did in fact have to put more faith in him. Hermione motioned to the wand in his hand.

"Well go on then, summon the portkey."

"How are you so sure there is one?" Draco retorted, challenging Hermione's theory. "What if we can just apparate?"

"Right... like Voldemort would really be so stupid as to let people apparate in and out of his _prison_. Afraid you can't summon a little portkey?" Hermione dared back, rolling her eyes. Draco smirked at her attempted use sarcasm. _Amateur._

" _Accio Portkey_ ," Draco's silky voice bellowed out. Hermione had to admit she had always been impressed with his form. He had a natural talent for magic that few possessed.

Hermione and Draco both held their breath, waiting for something to appear. A moment went by, and then two.

"Well, this is just bloody fabulous. I told you s...", Draco began. Suddenly, a key flew from around the corner, dropping at their feet. It was a small, simple and brass, no larger than the length of Hermione's hand.

Draco glanced at the trinket before them, making no motion to reach for it. _Why did she always have to be right?_ He caught Hermione's eye, and she gave him a smug grin back.

"On the count of three?" Hermione gulped in a breath, her heart racing. Draco looked equally unsure but nodded.

"You know, for an impossible prison from hell, we haven't seen too many monsters," Draco observed thoughtfully, the revelation just hitting him.

"And I don't particularly care to meet any more. Now, will you quit talking and grab the portkey already?" Draco chuckled at Hermione's resolve. "One...Two..."

In a flash, both Draco and Hermione were swirling through a vortex of air with dizzying speed. Hermione hated travel by portkey. In her opinion, it was archaic when compared to apparition. Only a moment later, they both came crashing toward the ground, vertigo induced sickness overtaking them.

"I hate those bloody things," Draco muttered as he unsteadily attempted to stand up.

"For once, we agree," Hermione muttered back, looking up for the first time at her new surroundings.

_Well, this is unexpected._ The world around them mirrored the Forbidden Forrest, except its quality was that of a shadow world. Fog encased everything, making visibility nearly impossible, giving the world a dull, grey glow, seemingly void of any color. They were in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by dense trees and fog. The air was cold, and yet completely absent of any breeze; it felt completely stagnant. There was an eerie silence to the woods, enough to drive a person mad with the stillness.

When Hermione attempted to stand up, her head began to spin, the world around her growing smaller. _What is happening to me?_ Hermione clung to the dirt, trying to push herself up. Her vision grew blurry as if the shadows themselves were closing in on her. Before she could blink, everything faded out of sight and the world went dark.

Noticing Hermione had yet to stand up, Draco hurried over to her.

"Granger? Granger come on, we have just a little further to go. Wake up," Draco urgently whispered, taking in her slumped over form on the ground. He put his hand against her abdomen, feeling for her breathing. Slowly, he lowered his ear down to her lips and heard the weak inhale and exhale of oxygen. The sense of relief that flooded Draco was more than unexpected, but he had no time to consider that now. They were easy targets in the middle of a clearing, and Draco knew he had to move them. Taking the wand out of his pocket, Draco motioned to levitate Hermione, but after calling out the charm, nothing happened. _Odd. Why isn't this working_? Draco called out spell after spell, attempting to lift Hermione's body off the forest ground, but nothing would work.

_Fuck, nothing can just be easy in this place, can it?_ Storing the wand back in his pocket, Draco dipped to put one arm under Hermione's legs, while the other grasped her back. Her body fell against his chest, her head tucked neatly into his shoulder.

"She has no idea how much she owes me for this one," Draco grunted. Although she was slim, every muscle in his body objected to the physical activity. She wasn't the only one who needed rest. Setting off into the fog, Draco carried Hermione, acutely aware of the danger that lurked behind the trees.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco sat completely still, huddled underneath a cavern created by a fallen tree. The mangled roots twisted above him, providing some measure of cover, though it was not enough for Draco's liking. His cold grey orbs sat alert on his tired face, surveying his surroundings. The dirt was damp underneath him, causing a chill to settle deep in Draco's bones. As much as he needed to sleep, he could not manage even a moment.   
  
_This is a bloody mess,_ Draco shivered _._   
  
Finding a safer cover was the next logical step, but he knew his body could not go any further, especially not if he had to carry Granger. He glanced down at the unconscious woman next to him. Her body was completely limp, and, were it not for the small tremble that ran through her every so often, Draco would be certain she had finally succumbed to her injuries. Absentmindedly, Draco pulled up Hermione's sweater so it better covered her bony shoulder.

Until she woke up, Draco was effectively trapped here. The silence of the forest made it easy for Draco to slip deep into his own thoughts, where the events of the last level were echoing; his transformation into his father haunted him still. Since his childhood, he had been told he was growing up to be just like his father; cold, regal, and powerful. And Draco had to admit that at least for a while, he revered everything his father did. He _had_ wanted to be just like him. As a boy, he looked up to the man who could silence the room with a single icy stare and command fear in others. Draco had wanted to be just like him, to one day have the authority to demand respect. Draco sighed. In many ways, he had grown into his father. Draco was a coward, much like Lucius, forming to the will of others, able to be swayed by the temptation of wealth. Lucius's greatest downfall was his hunger for power, and he was easily manipulated by others because of it. It wasn't until his time at Hogwarts that Draco realized there was more to life than status. Dumbledore had been a powerful man, but he did not command with fear, he commanded with love.

Draco would never know that type of respect. His name was tarnished, his life had been destroyed by the man he had once looked up to. His guilt over watching Hermione be tortured in his house was palpable now. Perhaps that is why he felt such a strong need to care for her? His father let others control him, but so did Draco. Draco spent years not thinking for himself, letting others pull the strings, standing silent as horrors took place around him. Yes, Draco decided, he was as big a coward as Lucius, as much as he had tried to convince himself otherwise. _Like father, like son._

But perhaps there was still hope. If he were ever to see the outside world again, Draco vowed he would change, that he would be different. Taking the memories of his past with him, Draco would do something with his life that mattered. Months stuck in a small cell had humbled the Malfoy heir.

Without any warning, Hermione jolted up next to him, effectively breaking Draco out of his thoughts. Frantically taking in her surroundings, Hermione looked up at him, her brown eyes wide with fear. Draco reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"Easy princess," Draco scolded, his hands easing her body back down. "Don't want to hurt yourself anymore. I refuse to carry you again." His casual voice betrayed his anxiety. In honesty, he was worried she would never wake up from her slumber, that there had been something seriously wrong. He attempted to patch up some of her injuries, but without magic, it had been nearly impossible. Outside of tending to his own wounds, Draco did not know the first thing about caring for another person, as he had never felt any obligation to do so before. _That's what house elves are for_ , Draco surmised.

Questions sat on the edge of Hermione's eyes. But before she could ask, Draco held up a hand, anticipating her words. "We are safe. I carried you here. You're welcome." The shock on Hermione's face was priceless, and Draco was quite proud of himself for stunning the Gryffindor into silence.

Hermione blushed, causing Draco's smirk to broaden.

"What happened?" Hermione croaked out. The world was still blurry in her vision as she attempted to make sense of where she was.

"You passed out. Not quite sure why though. Maybe you hit your head, but it could just be exhaustion." Draco's brow furrowed as he spoke. He himself had no clue as to why she had fainted, and he was certainly no healer.

"What is this place?" Hermione asked, her mind whirled with unanswered thoughts. "This looks nothing like the Labyrinth." She sat up a bit straighter, and her vision sharpened.

Draco sighed. "From what I can guess, this is a mirror of the Forbidden Forrest of the outside world. But everything here is dead...I have yet to see a single sign of life. The trees, the ground... there's nothing truly living here."   
  
Hermione poked her head out from under the dead tree, only to be met with complete silence. The only movement was the fog hazily shifting, masking the dense forest in shadows. Draco was right, this was clearly very different from the forest at Hogwarts, which was teeming with movement. The Forbidden Forest, while dark, was home to many creatures, every grain of dirt was enchanted, and it always felt as though something was always watching. Here, there was nothing; She felt utterly alone. As she moved back down into the confined space, her shoulder gently brushed Draco's. He felt the small bumps rise up on her skin as a shiver passed through her.

"Magic doesn't seem to work," Draco stated, ignoring her proximity, and passing the wand over to her to inspect. "I've tried this blasted thing a hundred times, and I haven't gotten bloody anywhere."

"Wards you suppose? Or some sort of charm?" Hermione questioned. Draco shrugged his shoulders, again causing him to lightly brush against Hermione's arm.

"I dunno...I can't think of any other explanation." Draco, like Hermione, hated not having the right answer. It frustrated him to no end.

"So, where do we go from here?" Hermione questioned. Her legs were sore from her cramped position under the tree. They didn't have nearly enough cover as she wanted, and she knew they would have to move soon. The air was turning colder by the minute, and guessing from the fading light outside, they would have to find a better shelter before complete darkness fell.

"Well... this can't be real. Not really anyway. It's a prison. It may be transformed to hide its walls and ceiling, but it must still have one right?" Draco rhetorically asked, speaking mostly to himself. "We should try to find something that we can use to guide ourselves so we don't get lost."

"Agreed. I think our best plan of action is to find the edges, see if we can run into a wall. Then, we focus on finding the portkey."   
  
Draco shook his head in disagreement. This level was vastly different from the last. From what he could observe, there was likely no portkey in sight. Furthermore, without magic, it would take ages to find.

"I don't think it will be that simple. I'm sure Voldemort kept each level different for a reason so that even if you broke through one level, you could not get through the next." Frustration marred Draco's voice as he spoke. He rubbed his temples, a habit Hermione noticed he did when he was deep in thought. His long fingers ran through his almost silver hair. "There may not be a portkey this time, and there is no easy way to find one without magic."

"Then what is there?" Hermione thought for a moment. "Regardless, we need to find some better shelter."

"Think you can manage to walk on your own this time? As much as I loved carrying your heavy ass...I didn't," Draco sardonically remarked, beginning to crawl out of their hiding spot.

"Oh shut it, Malfoy. You know I'm not heavy. Perhaps you're just a scrawny wimp?" Hermione chided back, smirking when she saw Malfoy's face erupt in a scowl. In truth, despite his thin stature, Hermione had noted the bands of muscle that were wrapped around his arms. He was no longer the scrawny bully from Hogwarts.

"I liked you much better when you were unconscious," Draco muttered, cursing himself for ever being comforted by her presence. _Annoying witch._ He peaked beneath the dead roots, and noticing the forest was empty, began to crawl out. Hermione followed close behind him, more than ready to stretch her aching legs.

Draco took a quick survey of their surroundings. The forest was dense, and it all looked eerily similar, shrouded in grey fog. _Fuck,_ Draco's subconscious reeled. They would never find their way out. Not without magic at least. But, despite the daunting fog, Hermione began to walk forward, choosing to go toward the sparest looking brush.

"Since we can't see well, we might as well head this way," Hermione called back. "Maybe we can find higher ground and get an aerial view..." She thought out loud.

Draco looked at her retreating form, rolling his eyes. "Well...Lead the way princess." Hermione scowled at his choice of word. _Princess... I am not a princess. Bloody, insufferable arse..._

The two began to walk forward into the fog. Though they tried to stay quiet, the dead crunched beneath their feet, the sound cutting through the silence. Hermione felt much better after her unplanned sleep. Though her body still ached in ways she did not think possible, her legs could once again carry her forward. Hermione's mind filled the silence. _Why would magic not work here?_ Perhaps there was a charm, but Hermione was unsure. Certainly, Voldemort would not eliminate his only means of successfully subduing escaping prisoners. Even if that were the case, they were using a stolen wand... the wand of one of his followers. If there was a ward up, it was likely that this wand was not blocked from using magic. _Curious._ And there was still the matter of figuring out why only she and Draco's cells had unlocked. Hermione could not shake the suspicion that this was not coincidental. Perhaps they were meant to attempt escape because Voldemort was leading them into some horrific trap. _Curious indeed._

After some time, Hermione stopped walking, glancing back in search of Draco. The fading light made it hard to see, and Hermione had to squint through the increasing darkness. Draco had fallen behind. Having had no sleep, his legs protested against every step he took.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, concern bleeding through her words.

"Just peachy," Draco huffed out. _First, she called me weak, and now she's concerned. This day cannot possibly get any worse,_ he thought _._ Hermione's eyebrows raised at his obvious discomfort. A break wouldn't be so bad, she decided, but before Hermione could suggest one, a deep howl rang through the trees. Another howl from off in the distance behind them answered the call.

_Werewolves._

Draco's eyes widened. _Oh shit._ The woods were suddenly enveloped in darkness. The only light was coming from a full moon raised high above the trees in the sky. "You have got to be fucking kidding me," Draco muttered. "An artificial moon to top off the artificial fucking forest. Bloody great. Granger," Draco growled. "Can you climb?"   
  
Hermione froze as she watched Draco run over to one of the pine trees. Though dead, most of the needles were still clinging to the branches. If they could get up high enough, they could be hidden from the danger below.

Draco skillfully began to scale the pine tree, oblivious to Hermione's discomfort.

Hermione gulped in air. She had an irrational fear of heights. It was why she could never stand brooms, and it was why she had never in her life climbed a tree before. Another howl rang out through the forest, this time louder. _They are near._ Trying to forget her fear of heights, Hermione placed her foot onto a low tree branch, hoisting herself up. Her bruised ribs smarted as she used her upper body to pull herself on to the next branch. Draco was already halfway up the tree when he looked down at Granger far below him. 

Draco groaned. Could she do nothing right? At this rate, she would never make it up the tree before they were found. He quickly descended down the branches. When he neared her, he reached his hand down.

"You're fucking slow, Granger. Afraid of heights?" Draco condescendingly whispered. She glared up at the blonde man above her. "Grab my hand, I'll help you up the branches."   
  
Instead of remarking on his rude comment, she grabbed his hand, knowing they had to move quickly to avoid being caught. She saw the muscles in his arm contract as he helped to pull her up. _Don't look down, Hermione._ She began to follow Draco's footing up the tree. Every once in a while he would turn around and offer her his hand. Each time his fingers wrapped around her own, she noticed how small her hands were in comparison; his grip felt secure, warding off any fears she had of falling.

When they finally reached a spot that Draco felt was high enough, they both sat in silence, listening as footsteps approached from out of the forest. A dark shadow moved through the trees before stopping just a few paces away from where they were hiding.

Below them was none other than Fenrir Greyback. Though still in human form, his thick hair wrapped around his face in thick bands. His clothes were torn, patched with dried blood from his previous victims. His nostrils flared, and he sniffed the still air. Hermione held her breath. _Please don't let him look up, please don't look up..._

_"Somul,"_ Fenrir's deep voice bellowed out below them. The tip of his wand lit up. _His wand worked?_ Draco looked at Hermione questioningly.

Fenrir continued to search the ground for any sign that the two escaped prisoners had passed this way. He inspected a shoeprint on the ground, knowing he was close. A howl ripped from his throat. Continuing to survey the area, Fenrir muttered a few more spells, moving the brush around.

Hermione strained her ears to hear. Suddenly, her mind clicked into place. This level was a mirror image of the real world. It all made sense. The magic works because he was performing the spells backward.

Hermione tapped on Draco's shoulder, motioning for him to pass her the wand sticking out of his pocket. He hesitated and Hermione glowered. The determination in her eyes made him think twice about not handing over the wand. Begrudgingly, he slipped the wand into her small hands, throwing his own glare at her for good measure.

_"Sumraillepxe."_ The spell felt clunky on Hermione's tongue, but from below, Fenrir's wand soared into her hand. She quickly passed the wand to Draco, smirking at the shock evident on his face. "Spells only work when performed backward," Hermione hissed at Draco before yelling out, " _Atnemidepmi"_.

Fenrir did not even manage another step closer when his body froze, bound by the spell. Hermione muttered another spell under her breath, and the branches of the tree quickly bent to form a ladder. The roots at the bottom of the tree sprang to life, moving to snake their way around Fenrir's body below. Draco stared wide-eyed at the witch. She was impressive. Scary...but impressive. He raised an eyebrow at her and motioned for her to go first down the ladder. They quickly made their way down the tree, and Hermione scanned the surrounding forest, looking for anyone else. Draco wasted no time storming over to Fenrir, his wand pointed at the werewolf's throat.

"Tell us what you know... how do we get out of here?" Draco venomously whispered. Draco noticed the moment Fenrir attempted to transform. His jaw began to widen, and his body, even beneath the roots of the tree, elongated. From behind him, Hermione sprang to action, muttering a few times before getting the Homorphus Charm correct. Fenrir's partially transformed body returned to its regular size as quickly as it had started to transform. His wolfish eyes flashed over to Hermione. The last time Hermione had met Fenrir was during the Battle of Hogwarts. She was certain he had died. 

Fenrir's gruff voice broke her out of her memory.

"Tell you what I know? Make me," Fenrir barked out his challenge, sneering at Draco's threat. The roots wrapped around Fenrir's body tightened, causing him to growl out in pain.

Draco lifted the wand in his hand, but before he could mutter his next incantation, blood started to seep out of the werewolf's mouth. Fenrir's eyes glowed in triumph as he spit a portion of his tongue out at Draco's feet. A slow, cool smile appeared on his face, his sharp teeth thickly coated in dark red liquid. Hermione looked on from afar and gasped. On the ground, an inch of the werewolf's pink tongue lay bleeding. _So much for getting him to talk._ Hermione felt her stomach churn.

_"Arvadek Adava,"_ Draco muttered. A green light flashed, and Fenrir's body went limp, held up only by the gnarled roots restraining him. For such a terrorizing force in the wizarding world, his end had been quick, Draco thought. _Too quick._ He regretted not letting the fucker just bleed out. But, it was too late for that. Draco turned to face Hermione. Her pale face was tinged green.

"We lost our only source of information. That bloody fucking animal," Draco cried out in frustration. Hermione was still staring at the blood leaking from Fenrir's mouth; her eyes traced the trail of blood down to his tongue lying on the ground before them.

"At least we both have wands now," Hermione whispered thoughtfully, trying to distract herself from the carnage. Truthfully, she was used to seeing blood by now. War had hardened Hermione's stomach; death did not bother her as it had before. However, Draco was right. They had lost their source of information, and more werewolves were likely on the way. In one last desperate attempt, Hermione muttered a summoning charm. " _Oicca Portkey._ "

Draco and Hermione stared out into the forest.   
  
Two moments passed, then three.   
  
Nothing appeared. She sighed. Draco was right again, no portkey on this level. _Then where is the exit?_ Through the darkness, yet another howl ripped through the silence. Without a second thought, Hermione and Draco took off through the forest, trying to stay hidden behind the dense trees. Hermione wracked her brain for any charms that could help, but her mind was running blank. The two continued on, listening closely for any footsteps through the darkness. The artificial full moon had not forced a transformation in Fenrir, Hermione considered. But he had started to change at his own will. The darkness felt more suffocating as Hermione put together this piece of knowledge. Anything they ran into could become dangerous. She gripped the wand in her hand, readying it just in case.

As they continued to walk forward, Hermione noticed a tapering of the brush. The trees were becoming more sparse. Squinting, she looked ahead through the thinning tree line and noticed...

_Impossible,_ Hermione thought. "Draco, do you see that?"   
  
Squinting, Draco looked through the forest, his eyes widening when he saw a log cabin through the trees."Is that...is that the oaf's hut?"

" _Hagrid's hut,_ " Hermione hissed out in correction. "Come on then!"

Hermione set off, practically running out of the forest and toward the little hut. She paused momentarily as she came closer, making sure they were still alone. His garden, or rather, where his garden normally was, was a patch of dead, shriveled up plants. Hermione, seeing no one else around, continued on to the door, limping up the steps and pulling on the handle. The door didn't budge. She extracted the wand out of her pocket, and Hermione thought for a moment before muttering, _aromahola._ The lock clicked open, and with a creek, Hermione pushed the door open. Draco gracefully ascended the steps behind her, walking into the tiny hut.

Inside was quite different than how Hagrid's real hut looked. Although a large fireplace sat against the back wall, the only other item in the hut was a table and two wooden chairs that sat untouched in the middle. The hut was devoid of any warmth that was normally present. It felt entirely dead, just like the rest of the wretched Labyrinth level. Hermione's heart ached for Hagrid's affectionate presence. Walking forward, Hermione noticed a single piece of parchment resting on the table. _Somul,_ Hermione whispered, illuminating the paper. Her eyes widened at the sight as she lifted the parchment off the table.

"What is it, Granger?" Draco stated. Coming up from behind Hermione, he peered over her shoulder.

"Wait... that... this can't be," A stunned Hermione rasped. "Is this..."

"Yes Granger, I think this is!" Draco grinned, letting out a small laugh of disbelief. "It's a map... and a pretty damn good one at that. Here set it down let's have a closer look." Reaching over Hermione's shoulder, Draco pushed the map back down, trapping Hermione's body between his own and the table. He continued to read the map over her delicate shoulder, his nearness warming Hermione's chilled skin as his hard chest just barely grazed her back. His mouth came to rest close to her ear. "This looks like a map of the multiple levels of the Labyrinth," Draco whispered, pointing to seven distinct lines sprawling across the page, separating each of the maps drawn.

Hermione looked down, following Draco's fingers. Seeing the detail of the map, she momentarily forgot about how close the Slytherin man was standing to her. There were seven drawn-out maps on the page, each completed in solid black ink. She looked at one of the levels, simply marked "forest". _This is where we are,_ Hermione thought. She heard Draco's breath hitch in her ear and realized he must have recognized their location as well.

"There... what do you suppose this circle means?" Draco questioned, analyzing the drawing.

Hermione glanced to the left of where Hagrid's hut was marked. A large body of water was drawn, expanding out to the edge of the paper. In the middle of the lake was a small circle. _What does that mean?_ She glanced at the level below the forest, the level they had been held in. There was no circle marked on the map, but a key was drawn off to the side.

"Look, the portkey was drawn on the last level. This one has nothing drawn to the side. I'd guess the circle could mark an exit of sorts," Hermione surmised, uncertainty still marring her tone. "Draco... this means..." Hermione paused, considering the significance of the map for a moment before continuing, "This means someone else has been here. That someone else could have escaped!" For the first time in what felt like months, hope filled Hermione's chest. It was an odd sensation. Since their escape, this was the first helpful piece of information they had received. If this was even a little bit accurate, they had a real shot at finally getting out of the prison.

Draco looked less optimistic. "But why would they leave this? Shouldn't they have needed it to escape? It means they could still be here. Or maybe this map belonged to Fenrir and his gang," Draco cynically analyzed the situation. This was no time for Hermione's misplaced hope.

Draco moved away, and cold air hit Hermione's back, replacing his presence.   
  
"If this is their map, then this is their base. They will look for us here Granger, this isn't safe," Draco said, but a yawn betrayed his words. Hermione scoffed, refusing to accept his pessimism.

"Malfoy, you're dead on your feet. You're no good to me this tired. I'll ward the cabin for the night if it makes you feel better, but we really should sleep before setting off. I think our only option is the follow the map." Truthfully, Hermione was tired herself, but she could not imagine how Draco felt. He had yet to shut his eyes since the start of this mess. He needed rest. Hermione thoughtfully considered the man next to her before she set off to work on warding Hagrid's hut. Draco watched as focus settled on her features. Though clumsy, she cast ward after ward, her brown eyes bright. Her lips barely parted as she whispered each charm, her thin arms stretched in front of her.

"Wards are difficult enough, and here you are doing them backward," Draco scoffed, though admittedly he was fascinated by the woman in front of him. One corner of his mouth lifted. "So tell me...Do you have a life?" 

"I got so used to doing them. Hiding from Voldemort was no easy task, and I had to protect Harry and Ron," Hermione shrugged. "This should do for the night." Satisfied, Hermione dropped her hand and walked to where Draco was sitting on the cabin floor. She took a seat next to him, leaning up against the wall.

"What were you doing?"

"We were looking for a way to defeat Voldemort." Hermione looked down, sounding defeated. _Which I clearly failed at..._ Hermione angrily thought. 

Draco was waiting for her to continue, but she denied his request, instead choosing to stay silent."You were looking for Horcruxes right?" Draco stated. 

Hermione's disbelieving eyes shot up to meet his. "You know what a Horcrux is?"

He nodded. "My father was one of the few who Voldemort trusted enough to know. It's how we ended up with the diary," bitterness crept into Draco's voice at the mention of Lucius. His thoughts were carried back to the silver-haired man who shared his blood, and he unleashed a scowl.

After a moment, Hermione chose to break the thick silence. "At the last level, with the mirror, you mentioned... well... you mentioned seeing your father?"

Draco looked over at Hermione, her eyes were intently focused on his own. He sighed, nodding. "Yes... why do you ask?" Draco questioned suspiciously.

Hermione shrugged. "Just curiosity."

"What did you see? When I walked over to you, you were crying," Draco challenged back, watching as Hermione winced under the weight of the memory. 

She didn't answer for a long moment, mulling over his question. She didn't know why she felt the need to respond, truly she owed him no answers, but something compelled the story past her lips. "When I walked down the hallway I saw blood everywhere. Every... every person I ever knew was lying dead before me. Snakes were coming out of their mouths, as though they were eaten from the inside. But that wasn't the worst part," Hermione's eyes were distant, recalling her nightmare. "In the middle of it all, next to Harry, and Ron, and... well my parents were there. My mother and father. There was just... just blood pooling everywhere. I failed them. My worst fear is failing those I love... that I lose them because of my own inability to protect them," Hermione's voice cracked at the end, tears brimmed in her large hazel eyes, but she never looked away from Draco's face. Her hurt radiated through each syllable spoken. The words cut through to Draco's cold heart, putting knots in his stomach. 

"I saw my father in the mirror," the words spilled from Draco's mouth before he could stop himself. "I saw myself becoming my father. I... I killed a muggle. Didn't even flinch."   
  
The silence settled around the pair again, Hermione contemplated his words before responding. "Draco, you are arrogant and spoiled...and quite frankly you are many awful things, but you are not evil. You are not heartless." Hermione looked into Draco's eyes. She had always thought them cold, but upon closer inspection, she could see the spark behind them, the emotion he tried so desperately to hide. "You are not Lucius, and I don't think you ever could be," She finished simply.   
  
Draco didn't respond, her words cutting through his ears. He scooted down the wall, laying his body down on the cold wooden floor. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but despite the chill in the cabin, Draco felt warmed by Hermione's words. A thick silence fell over the darkness, wrought with an unknown tension. Draco felt Hermione follow his lead, laying down close by. Draco supposed that if they ever made it out of the Labyrinth, things could never be the same between him and the Gryffindor princess. They were more alike than he wanted to admit, and although they might never be friends, he deeply respected the bright witch. Never before had he trusted someone with his deepest fears, and here he found himself quite easily revealing pieces of himself. Draco's eyes fluttered shut. His body began to fall limp under his exhaustion.

"Draco?" Hermione whispered out into the darkness of the cabin, breaking through the tension.

"Mm," Draco murmured in response, his eyelids still shut.

" _Thank you_."   
  
Draco could barely make out her hushed tone, but her words gave him a sense of fulfillment necessary to find sleep.   
  
She did not know exactly what she was thanking him for. Over the course of their escape, she had grown more and more comforted by Draco's presence. His actions had spoken volumes. Had they not been on different sides of the war, and had blood purity never been an issue, Hermione knew things would have been different between them. Perhaps this was their new beginning. Hermione rolled over, hugging her legs up to her chest to stay warm, her back facing Draco. Of all the things she had thought would happen in her lifetime, sleeping next to Draco was not one of them. But, for the first time since their escape, Draco and Hermione were both able to rest, knowing that whatever trials the next day had for them, they would be prepared together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for the support! Predications make me tingle with delight :) Again, I understand this is a true WIP - It needs revisions on plot points, dialogue, clunky language, unnecessary adverbs, and the list goes on. Your kindness and understanding are truly wonderful. 
> 
> If you are looking for something a bit more polished, check out my other WIP The Alliance! It's a fully realized and revised story with monthly updates. 
> 
> -AMJohnson0518


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione awoke to Draco thrashing next to her. Groans of pain escaped him as his body contorted into a ball; his knees were pulled tightly against his chest, and his fingers were digging into his skin, leaving red trails down his arms. Sitting up, Hermione gently placed her hand against Draco's shoulder.

"Malfoy," She whispered, shaking him slightly. "Malfoy wake up." Hermione's light touch startled Draco awake.   
  
His bloodshot eyes abruptly opened, and before Hermione could speak, Draco rolled his body over, grabbing her neck beneath his cold fingers. Slamming her body down Draco positioned himself over her, his legs pinning her own down and his hard chest pressing her back into the wooden floor. A shocked scream of pain escaped from Hermione's lips as her ribs contracted under Draco's weight. His labored breathing hit her face in warm spurts, and his alert grey eyes bore into her aching skull. Hermione watched as the panic slowly subsided from his eyes and realization dawned on him. Almost as quickly as he had pinned her, he released her throat and removed his body from hers, causing Hermione to sputter for air.   
  
Draco saw her fear of him glazed over her fragile features. Her mouth was pulled taut into a sharp frown, attempting to catch her breath. Draco's face flushed with embarrassment at his lack of control. Still eyeing him wearily, Hermione stayed completely frozen, afraid any movement would again startle him.

"I'm... Did I hurt you?" Draco's forehead creased with worry. Reaching out, he brushed her disheveled hair off her neck, trying to get a better look at the damage he caused. Hermione hastily sat up and angled her body further away from his, avoiding his touch. The vulnerability that Draco normally masked was now evident on his face; his guilt was displayed in full force, as he absently ran his fingers over his scalp.

"You were having a nightmare," Hermione's voice was barely above a whisper. Draco nodded in response, unsure of what else to say. His mind was still drowning in the remnants of his dream. Everything felt amplified by his lack of sleep and general weak state; dreams quickly became lifelike nightmares in the Labyrinth, a reality he had dealt with for months. Moving slowly so as not to alarm her again, Draco got to his feet and sat at the table in the center of the hut, still trying to erase the images floating through his subconscious.

"What was it about?" Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking. If his violent reaction was any indication, it had been not been good. Draco noticed there was a slight tremor lingering in her voice.

"Nothing that concerns you, Granger," Draco spat out, a coolness taking over his tone again.  
  
Hermione groaned, rubbing her tired eyes. So they were back to this. His mood was entirely irrational and unpredictable, Hermione's two least favorite things. As much as her curiosity was piqued by his outburst, she dropped the subject, uneasy with Draco's current lack of emotional control. Her own fragile mental state was incapable of attempting to understand the enigma before her. She shouldn't care that much anyway though, right? If they ever got out of here they would likely go their separate ways, and everything that happened here would exist only in distant memories between them. No, she definitely had no reason to be intrigued by Draco's thoughts, and figuring him out was best left to someone who cared.

A part of her was frightened by Draco. While she had conclusively decided he was not a Death Eater, his actions were more inexplicable to her this way. During their time at Hogwarts, Hermione knew exactly what to expect from the Slytherin prince; he was condescending, cold, and calculating, his aristocratic upbringing always coating his actions. Now, she had no idea how to predict what he was going to do next, which deeply unsettled her. Despite her own personal feelings towards the man, she couldn't blame him for his outburst, not when she had also been suffering through nightmares as well. Draco was not the only one who had changed.

Months of trauma, both physical and emotional had taken their toll on the once optimistic, courageous Gryffindor. Some nights she awoke in a cold sweat, nauseous from the evil tricks her mind was playing. While Hermione always thrived working alone- she often preferred her books over the company of people- something about spending months in absolute solitude changed her soul. Paranoia was her only companion most days. _Will I make it to see tomorrow? Who was outside the door? Are the screams I hear my own? Is someone watching me?_ Although she was alone in her cell, she heard the voices of her friends. Sometimes, if she looked hard enough their ghosts would dance around her cell, always just out of her grasp, taunting her.

While getting out of the prison to see her loved ones was what Hermione wanted more than anything, she was anxious about facing everyone. Would they understand her now that she was different than before? The Hermione who had been captured during the Battle of Hogwarts was very different than the one escaping now. Harry and Ron had been her closest friends, really her only true friends, and she was afraid of how the change within herself would cause them to react. Could they accept her as she was now? Her body felt broken, her mind weakened; She was not the sharp, confident woman they had grown to love. It was not her reaction that mattered, she knew she would have time to get reacquainted with her new self once she was out of here. How the others chose to accept the change in her was the real challenge, a test she was afraid to face.

Hermione stared at Draco, his hands caressing his temples, lost in his own labyrinth of a mind. A sadness washed over her. Regardless of whether or not she spent the time to figure him out, one thing was certain, outside of the Labyrinth he would be the only other person to truly understand her struggles. Their experience in the Labyrinth, the months of solitude, being helpless to the screams of others, would make them outcasts on the other side of this. Hermione shook her head, leaving her fears for the future behind for a moment. There would be no future if they could not figure out how to move on to the next level.

Hermione stood and walked over to the table, taking a seat across from Draco. Draco looked up at her, blushing slightly from his outburst. 

"Now that we have a map we can make a better plan. I don't want to continue aimlessly wandering," Hermione said, intently focused on the map. 

"Really? Pity. I was rather enjoying all the exercise." The corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smirk at the glare Hermione shot him.

"Here," Hermione pointed to the circle on the map, ignoring his sarcastic quip, "I say we follow the edge of the forest around until we get to the lake. A simple bubblehead charm should suffice while we reach the middle of the lake."

"Hold on a moment, Granger. How do we know this isn't a trap? I mean... Who the fuck leaves plans to the Dark Lord's very secret prison just lying out in the middle of a table, in the middle of a hut, in the middle of a bloody fake forest? I don't trust it."

"Then tell me, what is your brilliant plan? Because we are running out of time and options Malfoy."   
  
It was Draco's turn to glare at Hermione. _Stubborn woman._ In truth, he had tried to rack his brain for a better plan and had fallen short.

"Listen Malfoy, I'm not asking you to like this. I don't particularly like the idea either, but we may not have a choice," Hermione's tone was softer this time, defeated. Draco could not question her logic, and she could not question his. But, without any other way of knowing what the Labyrinth had in store for them, they were certainly limited in their options for escape.

"Fine," Draco muttered, still unhappy with the idea of putting their faith in a map that just happened to be lying around. Living at Malfoy Manor had taught him that dark magic could lurk beneath anything. Trust was never something to be blindly given. "Alright Granger, so let's say this is correct. And we make it through the forest undetected, and we find whatever this circle is. Then what?"

Draco noticed that whenever Hermione could not find an answer in that large brain of hers, she bit her lip and a slight crease formed in-between her eyebrows. He followed her gaze down to the next level on the map. There was no maze, just a winding path that led to a square room. It was simply labeled "cavern" in elegant script. Unlike the previous levels, there was no other writing indicating directions, no clues as to what the level contained.

Draco let out a long breath. "Well... that's bloody helpful," he sarcastically muttered.

"It's more helpful than the last level..." Hermione pointed a finger at the edge of the parchment. The only word written was "graveyard". There was nothing else drawn, no indication of what the Labyrinth had in store for them.

"Voldemort has the imagination of an angsty, thirteen-year-old" She scoffed. "Graveyards? Caves? This is asinine."

"We're trapped in a prison and you're critiquing the mad man's choice of scenery?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I only mean it just seems so _obvious._ "

"Well, when we get out you can let the Dark Lord know all about your issues with his _prison_ lacking originality." Hermione could not help but let out a small chuckle at his bewilderment. _Cheeky bastard._

"So Malfoy, I've been thinking, what if we leave the map here?" Hermione proposed. Draco's eyebrows rose into his forehead. She had his full attention. "It doesn't seem to actually have much for us, does it? We have a general idea of where we are going and what we are about to face. I don't see the need to put ourselves at unnecessary risk."

"I agree." The witch had finally come to her senses, Draco mused. Good. Taking the corner of the parchment in his hand, Draco turned the map over. It was blank...except for the initials KS scrawled in the bottom corner.

"KS?" Draco questioned.

"Kingsley," Hermione whispered. "Those are Kingsley Shacklebolt's initials. Draco, this map is from the Order."

" _Or_ , it's a trap. We need to leave it. We have all we can get from it anyway."

"I _know_ that," Hermione's voice increased an octave from the excitement bubbling in her chest. "But it means there could be members of the Order down here right now. Maybe that's why my cell opened."

"That doesn't explain why mine did though. I highly doubt that I'm someone the Order would risk saving. Something doesn't quite add up," Draco's voice was analytical, calculating. Hermione could not guess what he was thinking. Off in the distance, a howl echoed from the forest. Draco shook his head, "What I do know is we don't have time to sit here and waste."

Hermione's lips curved down into a frown. Draco was correct in his assumption that something was not right, but then, nothing in the Labyrinth was ever right. The mysteries of this place just kept growing. For the first time in her life, Hermione accepted that she would not get all the answers she was looking for.

"Let's get on with it then." Hermione felt light-headed when she got to her feet, and her stomach let out a grumble. She could not remember the last time she had eaten. It must have been days ago at this point.

"When we get out of here I want a hot steak and kidney pie, and a butterbeer," Hermione's voice trailed off under another loud roar of her stomach. She could almost smell the food now, she thought wistfully.

"I'm going to need something much stronger than a butterbeer. But the pie sounds delicious. Honestly, I'd eat just about anything right now," Draco thoughtfully pondered. That had always been one of his favorite dishes at Hogwarts.

Draco pulled his wand out from his pocket, and conjured a stream of water. Bringing the wand to his lips, he took large gulps, causing water to run down his chin and wet the top of his shirt. Following suit, Hermione also took her wand out for a drink. The water felt refreshing after the long day of running yesterday. Though it did nothing to quench her hunger, she felt revived. Keeping his wand out, Draco began to walk to the door.

Opening the door a crack, Draco peaked at the grey world outside. "It looks clear. On my mark, we make a run for the trees. Ready?" Draco felt Hermione's body tense behind him, readying herself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod. _Let's do this._

Draco flung the door open and they ran in the direction of the forest, neither daring to look back. If they could get to the shadows, they'd have a better chance of making it to the lake unseen. Hermione kept at his heels. Draco heard her breath come out in short spurts, matching the tempo of his own heart. _Just a bit further_. Nearing the forest line, Draco ducked behind the first tree he saw. Hermione slammed her back against a tree just to his left. Both looked forward into the forest.

Seeing no sign of movement, Draco locked eyes with Hermione. Her chest was still heaving, causing her thin sweater to slide down her shoulder. He tried to pay no mind to her flushed state. _She really has grown into her own..._ But his wandering eyes caught sight of two fingerprints shaped bruises on the side of her neck. Guilt boiled within him. This was not the first time she had suffered because of his mistakes; he owed it to her to get them out of here safely. They were both dipping into the last of their energy reserves, despite having woken up only an hour before. But, they had a long way to go. Motioning Hermione forward with his hand, Draco hurried to the next tree large enough to cover his body. Hermione's hair bounced as she nodded in response, quickly following behind.

Draco and Hermione continued to trudge forward, careful not to rustle the dead matter around them. Keeping close together, they dashed from tree to tree, using the grey shadows to their advantage. Draco's heart had yet to stop pounding in his chest. Every so often, they heard whispers through the trees or a howl off in the distance. Draco's body was taut, coiled in preparation for an attack at any moment. His icy eyes never stopped scanning the forest. According to the map, they should not have to walk too much further before they reached the lakeshore.

Suddenly, the little light they had dimmed. The forest began going dark, and another howl rang out through the increasing shadows. From behind him, Draco heard Hermione breath out, " _Impossible_ ". She walked closer to Draco, leaning up to whisper in his ear.

"We need to hide. Now." Her breath quivered against his neck. From her closeness, Draco could sense how shaky her body was. Moving as quickly as they could, they began looking for cover. The sounds of howls were growing nearer. Of all the creatures Voldemort had solicited to guard his prison, he had chosen the most ruthless and cunning. Their fate hinged upon finding a safe place to hide.

Draco squinted to see through the forest, finding nothing. He let out a frustrated breath, pulling out his wand. Turning to a rotting tree partially covered by brush, Draco started hollowing out the middle of it. He left just enough of the sides to provide cover. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. It was too dangerous to continue speaking, so Draco chased after Hermione, grabbing her hand and tugging her back towards the tree.

Draco pushed Hermione into the hollowed-out area he had carved and pressed his body in behind her. Their heaving chests gently rose and fell in sync. Draco's hands were on either side of her head, propping his body up. He felt the moment a shiver ran through Hermione, and her skin erupted with small bumps. It was as if the anxiety and tension of the day were trapped in the tree, electrifying the air between them. Though he was here out of necessity, Draco had never been one to enjoy the touch of others. He often noticed that Gryffindor's were always touching each other; arms slung around shoulders, casual hugs in the Hogwarts hallways. Slytherins- or rather, purebloods in general - were taught from a young age to never show affection. It was poor manners. Being so close to her should have greatly bothered Draco, as it would have years ago, but he found oddly at ease with it. Perhaps it was that there were too many other things to worry about at the moment, or perhaps he had been so starved of human interaction that his mind was rebelling against his upbringing. Regardless of the reason, Draco felt safe despite the danger lurking outside.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Draco quickly put a finger over her lips to hush her. The words fell back into her throat, just as they heard voices from the trees outside.

"They didn't take the bait, there is no way of tracing them now. The map is still in the hut," A deep voice bellowed through the forest, not caring about his volume. Another man groaned. Hermione looked up at Draco. His eyes said it all, _I told you so._ She shunned the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

"How the fuck have two kids gotten this far? The whole forest is bloody filled with werewolves," A cold voice sneered. "The Dark Lord is getting impatient. He punished Goyle last night, stupid git didn't check the hut. Heard he's going to be out of commission for a week."

A third man's voice responded. "That's going to be us if we can't find them. The Malfoy boy is clearly smarter than his father..."

The first man let out a deep snicker. "Indeed he is. But giving up his son to stay in the Dark Lord's graces was certainly savage, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione's ears perked up at the mention of Draco's father. Draco's finger was still pressed against her lips, and he gave her a sharp look of warning. An anger Hermione had never seen before looked as though it was going to be permanently burned into his cool eyes. _Lucius gave up Draco?_

The footsteps passed by the tree they were hiding in, heading off toward the direction of the hut. Hermione shut her eyes. So the forest was not only teeming with werewolves but Death Eaters as well. The situation was growing more impossible by the minute. Hermione and Draco stayed completely still in the hollowed-out tree, neither one daring to move. Many minutes passed before finally, Draco removed his hands from the tree behind her and his chest moved away from hers. He simply looked at her, and Hermione nodded. They needed to get to the lake.

They crept along the dark tree line. Deciding it was too risky to use their wands, they navigated using nothing but the dim light of the moon. The dark shadows cast by the trees danced across the ground, seemingly moving of their own accord. The forest, which had felt entirely dead before took on a new quality; being hunted created the sense of wandering eyes following their every move. Draco and Hermione walked side by side, their faces constantly shifting to take in their surroundings.

"Granger," Draco dared to whisper next to her, "do you think we're close? We sh-" In the darkness, Draco did not notice the slope of the ground, and his sentence was cut off by his body tripping over a large mass on the ground. Hermione, who had been only a few paces behind him did not stop in time, and she too landed on the wet ground next to Draco. The dirt under her hands squished, overly saturated with dampness.

It wasn't until she attempted to stand that she saw it.

The scene under her two hands was gory; blood had seeped into the artificial soil. Intestines were tangled around Hermione's foot, and her hands had turned a dark red. She felt a smooth bone crack under her fingers as she attempted to push herself up. Her jeans were splattered with specks of flesh. On her tongue, Hermione could taste the sticky, metallic blood. Hermione did everything in her power to hold in the scream that longed to rip from her lungs. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and though she wanted to move, to run screaming, her limbs were frozen in place.

"Fuck," Draco whispered next to her, realizing at the same time that they had tripped over someone's body. Draco dared to look back, seeing a headless corpse behind them. Torn bits of fleshy tissue and bone were lying around the body, having been pushed around by an animal- likely a werewolf Draco guessed. Flesh was peeled off the body in long strips, revealing bloated muscle and bone. Then, off to the right, Draco saw it. The head of a man. The skull was crushed in entirely on one side.  
  
The body had belonged to none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Hermione went into a state of shock. Her eyes were now wide open but distant, and her breathing had gone shallow. Draco knew that imminent danger could be barreling for them through the trees, closing in on their location. He reached out and grabbed her saturated hand in his, lifting her to her feet.

"Hermione... please," His words seemed to register in her eyes, and she looked at Draco. Progress. "Just keep your eyes on me okay? We are so close to the water. We have to keep moving." Draco's voice came out like velvet, soft, with not an ounce of arrogance to be found. In truth, Draco again found himself worried about the woman beside him. Draco could more easily than most understand that the death of a mentor was difficult, but it was amplified in situations such as these; Hermione quite literally was carrying her dead friends' memory on her. Her hand trembled in his, and he looked back to see fat tears caught in her long eyelashes. He kept pulling her forward, despite the sorrow radiating off her form. The trees began to thin again.

"Just a bit further, okay?" Draco tried to reassure her. Having never had to comfort another person before, especially not someone he spent most of his life loathing, he had no idea where to begin. He was rebelling against his own childhood sensibilities. Suddenly, Hermione's feet dragged, and she pulled Draco to a stop.

"We have... We..." Her words came out in short gasps, "The others. There could be more. We can't leave Draco. Not w-" Draco watched the moment she crumbled to the ground, her shoulders heaved forward, bearing the weight of the Labyrinth. Without hesitation he knelt down beside her, resting his palms on her shoulders. Her skin was ice cold, and he felt the bones from her collar protruding under his fingers. And yet, despite how delicate she was, he knew there was real strength still left in her.

Draco lifted her chin so she met his eyes. "Hermione, going back will not change this. Nothing will change this," His tone was even, yet stern. He needed to snap her back into reality, or they would both be dead. Her brown orbs were dark, and her lashes were soaked with tears. "They would not want you to die here. Just a bit further, okay?"

Hermione simply nodded, making no attempt to wipe the tears from her face. She could still smell Kingsley's blood on her, could feel his flesh under her fingernails. Grief struck her heart cold, and anger numbed her to her bones. Never before had she wanted her friends more than in this moment, to know that they were safe, that they were living. Draco pulled her to her feet, keeping her hand securely in his. Little did Draco know, his guiding touch was the only thing keeping her on track. It grounded her senses, making her feel as though there was some hope in this bloody hopeless situation.

After walking a bit further, Hermione and Draco spotted the lake. There was no movement of the water, causing it to look like a sheet of obsidian glass. Draco walked them right to the edge before pulling out his wand.

"Ready, Granger?"

Again she simply nodded, not yet capable of forming sentences. She pulled out the wand in her own pocket and thought for a moment before casting the spell. A translucent orb encased her head, causing the world to go slightly blurry. She breathed in deeply before jumping off the edge into the deep, dark lake below.

The cold water snapped Hermione out of her trance. It was oddly refreshing, despite how icy it felt. The blood from her clothes seeped out into the water, light wisps of red floated around her. She wished her memory would wash away as easily as the blood. Hermione felt as Draco's body plunged into the water next to her. His shirt lifted up to reveal his thin, yet muscular physique. The silence that encased them was unnerving.

"Are you okay?" Draco's voice came out muffled from under his oxygen bubble, and Hermione had to swim closer to hear him. He repeated his question.

Hermione shrugged. Her wet clothes were already weighing her down. Swimming was going to be exhausting. She pointed deeper towards the lake and began paddling forward. The water was murky and dark, exhibiting the same grey shadowy quality that the forest had. The further down they swam, the more fridgid the water became. It chilled her bones, causing her chest to constrict. Taking deep, slow breaths, Hermione tried to keep herself calm. At least there were no more werewolves or Death Eaters. But despite that fact, she could not stay calm. The image of Kingsley's cracked skull, and his torn body echoed through the lake. The dim light of the water toyed with her mind, and multiple times she swore she saw his body floating into the abyss.

Draco swam close to Hermione for what seemed like hours. His muscles were aching, and he noticed both he and Hermione kept sinking lower into the water, pulled by the heavy weight of their soaked clothes. His teeth chattered with every breath he took. The lake was huge. Finding anything here would be near impossible. Draco could not even guess how far it would take them to reach the middle.

That was until he heard the sound of music. It was muffled, and quiet, but it was distinct. Was it in his head? Hermione glanced back at him, her deep eyes full of questions. Yes, she could hear it too. Hermione thought about the mirrored world they were in. Realization dawned on her. If it was a portrayal of what was in the real world, that could only mean one thing. They were about to come into contact with merpeople. The music suddenly sounded familiar, her memory bringing her back to the second task in the Triwizard Tournament. She quickly grabbed Draco's arm, stopping him from continuing forward.

"Draco, it's merpeople. If this is an image of reality then we are swimming towards their city," Hermione's thoughts tumbled past her lips. 

"How do we deal with them? There are only two of us, we can't just swim in there with our wands out," Draco sounded exasperated and exhausted.

"No, we can't. We will have to stay hidden."

"Easier said than done," Draco muttered under his breath.

"We will stick to the outside of the city, and see if we can find anything."

"And what exactly are we looking for?" Draco questioned.

"I dunno," Hermione admitted quietly. She truly could come up with no ideas, and that frightened her.

The closer they swam, the louder the music sounded. The city looked grey off in the distance, built of dark rock. Draco and Hermione swam lower to the ground, hiding in the dark tangle of plant matter that coated the bottom of the lake. _If we can just stay hidden long enough_... A sharp pain suddenly radiated through the back of Hermione's ankle, causing her to cry out. From beside her, Draco also let out a pained groan. Tiny teeth sunk into his arm, as he quickly reached for his wand. A small green fish-like creature with tiny horns swam into his view, grabbing onto his hair and tugging. Draco attempted to fight it off until he heard Hermione shout out a jinx behind him, causing the little demon to swim away. Curse, after curse was thrown as dozens of grindylows emerged from behind their resting place in the plants. Blood swirled through the water around them as sharp nails ripped into their skin. Letting out one last giant blast from her wand, Hermione managed to scare the flock away. She attempted to let out an exhausted breath before it caught in her throat.

Although the gindylows were gone, before them stood a new challenge; Their cries had summoned a horde of merpeople. _They found us._ Their yellow eyes bore into the humans, their spears held ready to strike. Hermione moved closer to Draco and lowered her wand. Without another word, the merpeople surrounded them and using their spears led them toward the city. Draco shot a fearful look at Hermione, which she returned. There was no escape.

The merpeople ushered them deeper into the city. The dark rocks formed shelters from which more merpeople sat watching, spears ready to attack. When they were in what appeared to be the middle of the city, the merperson leading them stopped. Behind her stood a hazy portal built into the dark rock. While they could not see through it, the hazy fog swirling around it was much lighter than the surrounding rock. This must be the way out, Hermione thought. Which means...

"Answer the puzzles, and you can pass through the portal. Answer incorrectly and you shall be no more," The merperson sang out, her broken teeth looking fierce against her grey scales.

Behind his translucent bubble, Draco's eyes radiated absolute fear. _Riddles. I fucking hate riddles._ Of all the damn things they had to face, Voldemort had to have a sick sense of humor.   
  
Hermione tried to swim closer to Draco, and he noticed her body trembling. Her heavy clothes were pulling her down, holding her hostage under the weight of the water. Reaching out a hand, he grabbed her cold, slippery fingers in his own and helped her closer.

The mermaid before them also leaned in. As she opened her mouth to speak, Draco noticed the green algae stuck to her pointed teeth.

"What is it that no man ever yet did see, which never was, but always is to be?"

Draco's mind began working furiously. _What the fuck?_ From the crease that had formed in between Hermione's eyebrows, he knew her brain was also hastily processing the merperson's words. _No man ever yet did see..._ So, something that a man has not seen yet. Something that never was? He hasn't seen it because it has yet to happen? But the last part. Draco could not understand the last part, _But always is to be._

"Granger, the man-"

"Shhh," She shushed him, her eyes closed in thought. "I'm so close." _But always is to be_... what always happens, that a man could always see but has yet to? Because it has yet to happen...

"TOMORROW," Hermione shouted out, excitement sparkling in her brown eyes. Draco's thin lips pulled into a full smirk. Brilliant. The woman was bloody brilliant.

The mermaid before them scowled, nodding at the answer. Without pause, she started reciting the next riddle.

"It lives without a body, hears without ears, speaks without a mouth, to which the air alone gives birth. What is it?" The merperson sang out, the sound of the water muffling the speech ever so slightly.

Again, the pair began working swiftly to sort out the riddle. Hermione searched her brain, analyzing each word. What sort of person could live without a body? _To which the air alone gives birth_. What is born in the air? She was truly stumped. Looking towards Draco, she saw that he was likely no closer to the answer than she. His eyes were scrunched together, and intense focus was written on his features. _He must be dying to run his hand over his temples_ , Hermione thought. His bubble was preventing him from performing his usual habit.

Draco looked at her and began to speak, "It speaks without a mouth... how is that possible?" As Draco posed his question to her, something clicked in Hermione's head. It doesn't speak but makes a noise, which the air then gives birth to.. it travels through the air.

"An echo!" Hermione called out again, turning to face the merperson. As before, the merperson nodded in response before reciting another riddle.

"If you break me I do not stop working, If you touch me I may be snared, If you lose me, nothing will matter. What am I?"

Hermione looked at Draco, panic written across her face. Her tired eyes were red and glazed over. _She doesn't know_. Fuck. Draco racked his brain, trying, and failing, to stay calm. The oxygen in his bubble was getting thin... too thin. They were almost out of time, and he had not a single clue as to what the answer could be.

_Think Draco_. What could this possibly be? It works when broken... but is so essential that if lost, nothing matters. _If you touch me I may be snared..._ Works when broken, and can be snared by someone's touch. Draco peered over at Hermione again. Her eyes were still bright with anxiety. _Fuck._   
  
Draco repeated the riddle over and over in his head. The merpeople began closing in around them, their spears at the ready. Dozens of yellow eyes focused on the two humans. And then Draco's brain clicked into place.

"A Heart! It beats when broken, can be taken by someone else... but you cannot live without it!" Draco's voice rang out in astounded pride.   
  
The merperson slowly nodded, and swam to the side, exposing the portal to them. Hermione grabbed Draco's hand and squeezed it in what Draco assumed to be thanks. The smile on her face was the first genuine one Draco had seen since seeing her in the Labyrinth. Her face, though gaunt, lit up, causing each tiny facet of her eyes to shine. They quickly made their way over to the portal, both wanting nothing more than to leave the frigid water and the memories of this level behind. Draco felt as if he were nearing hypothermic levels, and knew Hermione must be as well. As they approached the portal it turned a deep blue color, the fog moving furiously in front of it.

"See you on the other side, Granger." Draco hesitated only a moment before passing through the portal. It swallowed his body completely.   
  
Following his lead, Hermione nervously swam forward, disappearing into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The riddles are not mine! I wish I were that clever, but, I'm not. 
> 
> Updates may be a little slower because I am going on vacation this week. I'll resume updating every few days next week.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco was certain that this constituted the longest moment in the history of his existence; he held his breath and stared at the unmoved portal. _Where is she?_   
  
When he had jumped through the portal, the force of it propelled him forward, and he landed roughly on his back. The ground was rocky, and sharp peaks were formed all around him, encasing the walls and ceiling of the Labyrinth. The cave was sparsely lit, damp, and most importantly, frigid. Dimly glowing ice covered some of the rock formations, providing the only light in his surroundings. Drops of water echoed through the cavern, rhythmically keeping time as the seconds passed.

Panic arose in Draco's chest as the milliseconds ticked by, but finally, Hermione's lithe body shot out of the portal, and she was thrown roughly on the ground next to Draco. 

Finally able to take a proper breath, Draco pushed his body off the rocky ground; he noticed his muscles ached in a way they had never before. Swimming for an extended period of time had used up all of his strength. The cold air froze his wet clothing to his skin, causing him to uncontrollably tremble. His body felt as though it was battling itself; his muscles were the fire to his icy blood. As imperative as it was to move forward, Draco knew it would be impossible without a bit of rest before their journey. He looked over at the woman lying on the ground, noticing she was far worse off than himself.   
  
Quickly, he reached down and helped her to her feet, gripping her slender arms. Blood trailed down her arms from where the grindylow claws tore into her flesh. Her chestnut hair had turned nearly black, soaking down her back. The sweater that had been large on her bony form now clung to her thin body, emphasizing the few curves she had left after months of starvation. Draco's eyes continued to pass over the patches of dark purple skin that peeked out from beneath her light sweater. Through chattering teeth, she huffed out small gasps of air. 

Despite their grim surroundings, and the ice clutching Draco's heart, he felt elated, high off of their victory. Before he could control his actions, Draco pulled Hermione close to his chest, wrapping his arms around her. Her body trembled in time with his, neither one warm enough to throw off any body heat.

"Th-that was bloody b-brilliant Hermione," Draco's voice quivered along with his shaking body, but his tone was filled with pride. Hermione pulled back from his hard chest to look up at him and noted that his face truly was remarkable when he smiled. His eyes crinkled a bit at the corners, and his normally sharp features softened.

"N-n-no, without you w-we wouldn't have made it here. Th-that last pu-puzzle... I di-didn't know the answer," Hermione's teeth chattered, but a small laugh still managed to escape her lips, which were turning a deep shade of grey. Pulling the wand out of his back pocket, Draco quickly warmed the air around them, while Hermione worked on drying their clothes. Though their teeth were still chattering, Draco was satisfied that they were no longer at risk of freezing to death. He rubbed his fingers up and down her arms to create friction, trying anything to warm up her shaking muscles.

"Hell truly has frozen over... Miss know it all admitting she doesn't know everything?" Draco smirked playfully, his eyes alight with that signature spark Hermione had come to associate with his rare jovial moments.

Hermione slowly blinked her long eyelashes up at Draco before lightly smacking him on the arm. "You arse."

"Guilty," Draco chided. His hands were still absentmindedly running up and down her arms. Suddenly realizing his casual touch, Draco jumped back, his skin flushing despite the chill still flowing through his blood.   
  
Hermione hated to admit it, but the second his fingers left her arms she missed his soothing touch. He was managing to calm her tense muscles and he brought heat to her body easily. Trying to ignore the feeling of missing his touch, Hermione analyzed their surroundings for the first time. Her face, which had moments before shown her happiness at their victory, were now sullen. This environment looked even harsher than the last. She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Kingsley's torn and broken body flashed behind her eyelids. Her friend, a mentor to her and a loyal member of the Order was dead, just another causality in this horrid fight. She had no idea whether he was coming in to rescue them, or whether he too had been trying to escape. Maybe other cell doors had opened? Hermione did not doubt that it was possible given the size of the Labyrinth. Her brown eyes turned glassy behind her tears, and she quickly closed them to stay the budding liquid. She took a deep breath, then two. And finally, when she felt the tears were gone, she opened her eyes to see Draco analyzing her face. Curiosity and worry marred his features for a moment before he put his cool mask in place.   
  
She shook her head to rid her mind of the horrible images that made a home behind her eyes and gave Draco a weak, reassuring smile.

"I don't know how much further I can walk. My body hates me right now," Draco admitted.

"Agreed. But let's try to find a place away from this damn portal, I don't want Death Eaters landing on us."

Together they began walking forward through the dark, ominous cavern. Their footsteps made soft clicking noises against the hard stone. The stone was slippery, and extra exertion was needed to keep balance while traipsing across the cavern. If the map from the last level was correct, this was not a maze, but a single, long hallway. It struck Hermione as an odd decision. Why would Voldemort decide to make a single cavern, without any turns, without his signature maze? After a few moments, she gave up, realizing she would likely never understand the decisions of a sociopath. Beside her, Draco's foot slipped as he was climbing over a rock. He placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder to steady himself, almost knocking her over in the process. It was then that Hermione noticed blood dripping down his fingers. An earlier scratch from the grindylow was now gaping on his arm.   
  
_I'll need to fix that,_ Hermione thought to herself. She also noted her own scratches, which were sore and bleeding as well. She would have a lot of work ahead of her before she would be able to rest.

" _Lumos_ ," Hermione's delicate voice whispered through the darkness, casting light to look for any viable shelter. Walking off toward the walls of the cavern, Hermione found what looked like a small opening, leading to a short tunnel.   
  
Noticing what she was about to do, Draco quickly protested. "Granger, don't you dare go into that tunnel. We don't know what could be inside," he hissed. 

"That's what magic is for," she quipped with a mischievous smile, and she quickly dropped to her knees and crawled into the hole. She followed the short tunnel before it opened into a small cave. It was no bigger than a few body lengths across, and there was barely room for her to stand. _Perfect._

Crawling back out of the tunnel, Hermione poked her head out of the hole in the cavern wall.

"Draco," she whispered, though her voice still carried loudly against the stone. "Draco, quickly." He saw her head peeking out from behind the rock. He ducked into the small hole. Before he continued, he turned around and muttered a few spells. A large rock nearby levitated for a moment, and then dropped in front of the hole, blocking it from outside view. Draco admired his work for a moment, feeling satisfied that it would be nearly impossible for anyone to find their hiding place. When Draco crawled his way into the small opening, he noticed Hermione had already started to work on situating herself. In the corner, a small fire was hovering, causing the shadows to look alive, and casting a pleasant heat. He watched as she picked up a small rock, eyed it carefully, and then transfigured it into a pillow. Draco let out a small chuckle.

Startled, Hermione turned. "What?"

"Of all the things you could make, you choose a pillow?"

"Excuse me for wanting to rest comfortably," Hermione sniffed, her eyes narrowing at Draco as he continued to smirk, shaking his head. Hermione threw the pillow over to him, and he caught it. He squeezed the soft pillow in his hands and nearly moaned. He hadn't felt something so soft in ages, and it made him long for his plush bed at Hogwarts. _Maybe this isn't the worst idea she's ever had..._

Because of the limited room, Draco placed his pillow next to Hermione's and laid down. His eyes slowly shut, and he let out a deep groan as his head hit the pillow. _Merlin this feels wonderful._

Hermione watched as Draco nuzzled his head into the pillow. His expression was dripping with pure ecstasy. 

"Enjoying yourself?" She smugly remarked, amusement tingeing her tone.

"Granger do not ruin this for me," Draco warned back, his tone still deep with satisfaction from the small piece of comfort she had provided him. 

"Well I'm sorry to break the news to you, but I need to fix your arm up."

"My arm?" Draco questioned back. Looking over he noticed his weeping wound and the trail of red that was oozing down his arm. "Shit, I didn't notice that," He muttered.

"Mmhm," Hermione hummed. Reaching over she gripped his arm in her small hands, examining the wound. Draco noted that her touch was light, just barely there against his skin, but her fingertips radiated heat. She pulled out her wand and whispered a few words before he could disapprove. The wound slowly began to heal, pink skin sewing itself together again. It stung only for a moment before completely closing up. In its place was a small, raised scar. She began examining his body for any more cuts, finding one on his lower calf, and another on his neck. Gingerly, she placed her hand against each area that required healing. As she mended his skin, Draco noted that despite her thin and haggard appearance there was something quite endearing about the shape of her lips, and the slender curve of her neck. She had never been beautiful to him during his time at Hogwarts, but upon further inspection, he could see why his classmates were intimidated by her; she possessed both brains and beauty. Her look was timeless, yet in an understated way, much different from that of Pansy or Astoria. Hermione looked up just in time to catch his gaze taking in her form.

Embarrassed, Hermione's skin flushed a soft shade of pink, "I'm sorry about the scars... I haven't quite had time to master the craft yet," She whispered. Draco did not know how to respond. He was still absolutely fascinated that the brilliant witch before him had managed to perform such sophisticated magic without proper training. Not able to handle his silence any longer, Hermione nervously attempted to fill it.

"I want to be a healer when all of this is over. I always have, really. Even before I knew I was a witch, I wanted to be a muggle doctor. It's precision and tenacity, and it helps people. I guess I've always just wanted to make a difference, even if only to one person." The words tumbled from her mouth in a rush. She didn't know why she found it necessary to explain herself to him, but for some reason, she wanted his approval.

"The brightest witch of our age could choose to do anything she wants, and you want to work in a hospital with sick people? I think you'd be quite good at it, but there is very little money or glory in that career," Draco spoke only what he thought was honest, studying her reaction to his words.

She simply shrugged. "Money and glory may be things that you seek Mr. Malfoy, but they have never appealed to me. I need to be passionate about what I am doing or I will never succeed." Draco looked quizzingly at her, and Hermione shot back, "What? You don't have anything you're _passionate_ about?"

Draco narrowed his eyebrows, "Of course I do, but why can't that include money and power?" Clearly, the Gryffindor needed to sort out her priorities. "I'm passionate about my well being, and the well being of those I care for, but I'm also passionate about the finer things in life...both of which require money." Draco paused, reflecting on himself for a moment. "I honestly don't know what I want to do in the future. Run a business, go into politics perhaps? I am not someone who can be ordered around. I make my own rules, I always have," Draco smugly finished, taking in Hermione's horrified stare. Her lips were slightly parted in awe.

Draco continued, "What... you thought I was an entirely reformed man? I've changed, but I still am a Malfoy, Granger. Never forget it." Draco smirked arrogantly, his eyes alight with mischief.

Hermione let out a small chuckle at his honesty."Like I could forget that" Hermione rolled her eyes. "So... that's it then. You're going to leave here, take over the Malfoy fortune, get a profession that continues to make you filthy rich and marry some airhead as a trophy wife?"

In truth, Draco had thought a lot about his future since his capture. He was in a strange limbo; not evil enough to be a Death Eater, and not accepted by the Order. A proper pureblood family would never allow their daughter to marry someone with such a tainted name, and yet, he could not see someone outside of Slytherin house accepting him either. Then again, he wasn't too keen on 'marrying an airhead'. He needed someone to challenge him, to make him think, to deflate his ego. He let out a deep breath. Thinking about it caused anxiety to bubble up in the pit of Draco's stomach. Draco was unsure why he was desperate for Hermione to understand him, but he ignored the protest in his mind and continued.

"I want success, whatever that means in this fucked up world. But...I want to be happy above all else. Whatever I have to do to achieve that, I will." Draco sighed, "Hermione, I didn't grow up in the cookie-cutter world you did. I had very few moments of happiness in my life. Success for me, in the future, includes happiness, wherever I go from here. I don't want a loveless marriage, contrary to pureblood beliefs. I want passion in all areas of my life." The fire from the corner of the room was reflecting across Draco's face, emphasizing his aristocratic features, and lighting his icy eyes and hair. Hermione was left breathless at his truthfulness. Never before had she heard him speak with this sort of eagerness. 

Draco felt uncomfortable with all the talk about himself, and he steered their conversation back towards her, his own curiosity piqued. "So you're going to leave here, become a doctor, marry the Weasel, and have a bunch of red-headed babies? That sounds safe, especially for a woman who is anything but," Draco countered her glare.

"For your information, I do not _plan_ on marrying Ron. Whatever happens, happens." Hermione shrugged, looking off towards the fire.

"You're with him then?" Draco knew his own hatred of the Weasley's was clouding his judgment, but after a few days of really working with Hermione, he knew she was also someone who required a challenge. Anything other than that, and her brightness would wither under the mundane.

"I'm... well," Hermione narrowed her eyes, "It's complicated. Right before I was captured he confessed his love for me, but we never got the chance to act on anything." Hermione's cheeks flushed pink. She had never before been so forthcoming regarding her more intimate details, but Draco had a way of manipulating answers out of her. _The bastard..._

Draco let out a sharp, condescending laugh. "The Weasel wasn't even man enough to ask you before then? Everyone with half a brain cell could see you loved him." Draco lifted his eyebrows at Hermione, goading her for an answer.

"I did not _love_ him, for your information Malfoy. But I was never given the chance to find out what we could be. So to answer your earlier question, no, I am not sure what my future holds. All I know is that I want to have one, and, like you, I want it to be meaningful and passionate. I won't settle for anything short of that. Life is far too precious to waste," Hermione's voice, which had previously taken on a hard edge, once again softened to a whisper. She had always fancied Ron, Draco was not wrong on that assumption. But after all of this, after all of her time in the Labyrinth, Hermione knew she was not the same woman; She did not know who the new version of herself would like on the other side. However, the thought of Ron did not bring her the same wistful longing it once did. 

"Draco," Hermione tentatively started, "You never did tell me how you ended up in he-"

" _And you will never know_ ," Draco harshly interrupted her, his eyes dangerously flashing toward her face. During the course of the discussion, their bodies had ended up shifting, and they were lying side by side, facing one another. His hurt and anger, which he had tucked away, threatened to break free as he thought about his father.

"I'm sorry Draco. For however you ended up here... you truly did not deserve it," Hermione replied, noting the irony that just two days prior, she had told him definitively that he deserved this hell.

"You're wrong," Draco argued, as he rolled over onto his back, eyes staring blankly ahead at the rock ceiling. "I do belong here. I am not a good man, Hermione. I've done horrible things in the name of power. I followed blindly, even though I am smart enough to know better." Draco was speaking almost to himself, thinking about his prior behavior.  
  
Hermione considered his words. This was not the first time he had stated that he was indeed not a good person. _He's so harsh on himself_ , Hermione thought, but, a part of her also recognized the truth in his words. She had been on the receiving end of his taunts and jeers for years. He was not a good person... but perhaps, perhaps he could redeem himself. He had been doing a fine job so far.

"Draco, it's not who you were that matters anymore, it's who you choose to become. You have your own choices to make from here on out. Your life is yours... Not your father's, not Voldemort's, not anyone else's." The conviction in Hermione's voice struck a chord with Draco. She sounded so sure that he was better than who he was.   
  
Could he be better? Draco let out a deep sigh and turned his face away from Hermione. The conversation was over for now, but both Draco and Hermione mulled over all that was said until they floated into a deep sleep.

* * *

Hermione had no idea how long she had managed to rest, but her body felt replenished. Well, as replenished as it could considering her weakend state. Draco was already up, cleaning up the evidence of their stay. Hermione secretly watched his graceful movements. Even though he was injured, he still managed to make everything look effortless.

Draco, suddenly feeling her stare, turned to face Hermione, who blushed in response to being caught staring at his back. Without exchanging any words, the two cleaned up and set out on their way, back into the unknown of the cavern. The tension between them was palpable in the frigid air. Both chose to ignore it though, and they began walking forward into the darkness of the caves.

As they walked, Draco occasionally reached his hand back to help Hermione over a pile of ledge, carefully guiding her safely through the more difficult patches of terrain. Without realizing it, his fingers would linger a few seconds longer each time, as if subconsciously clinging to her for comfort. For her part, Hermione was glad that Draco was there to help make this difficult journey less unbearable, even though it was done in subtle ways. She had always noticed how Slytherins, or rather purebloods in general, seemed to shy away from any physical interaction. They were cold through and through. But she recognized a subtle change in Draco. Perhaps it was due to the complete lack of human contact he had faced over the last months of his capture, or, perhaps he was just growing comfortable with her. Whichever the reason, Hermione found that she did not mind the times when his shoulder casually grazed her own, or when his fingers would tighten around hers. It provided a small comfort she had been longing to feel for ages. 

Hermione was eager to speak with him, but fear stopped her. It was not, however, fear of the echoing caverns that kept her silent; Hermione did not know what to say after their conversation last night. They had both revealed vulnerabilities about themselves that were unexpected. Hermione was by no means as cold as the Slytherin man next to her, but she was also careful with who she chose to share herself with. It was one of the reasons why she always had trouble forming more than a few close friendships in her lifetime. They walked for what felt like miles, hearing and seeing no one, which made Hermione increasingly uneasy. There had to be something more to this level, this could not be it. _But what?_ The further they walked, the more on edge they became, waiting for the moment when everything would go back to hell.

When hell finally came for them, Hermione was unprepared to face the horror.   
  
The already frigid cave suddenly became wintery, a rush of cold air blanketed the pair. Hermione felt a feeling of helplessness drown her. Glancing over at Draco, she noticed his pale skin looked ashen, and his silver orbs were wide with pure sadness.   
  
Through the dark shadows of the cavern, a dementor emerged, his black tattered cloak veiling his soul-sucking mouth.

Draco fell to the ground beside her, cowering next to the stone as the dementor descended upon him. Bounding to action, Hermione retrieved her wand, readying herself to cast her Patronus. The feeling of hopeless abandon almost consumed her, and her knees went weak.

_"Expecto Patronum,"_ Hermione cried out, her voice echoing in the cave. From her left, she noticed another dementor quickly swooping down upon them.

A wispy silver shadow emitted from her wand. Hermione's usual happy memory, one with her parents from her childhood, was not working. The fate she forced upon her parents did not bring her elation, and it soured any happiness she could feel toward their memory. Hermione hurriedly went moment by moment, searching for something that truly filled her with happiness. She thought back to Hogwarts, of her friends and loved ones, trips to Hogsmead and warm fires in the Gryffindor common room. Again, this only clutched her heart with sadness.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_ She cried out yet again. Time was running out for them. Thinking of family and friends was not going to work, and so, she changed tactics.   
  
She thought of the first moment she had found her small hidden alcove in the Hogwarts library as a bright-eyed young girl, reading and sipping tea that she had managed to sneak past the librarian. It was peaceful, serene, and all hers.

A flash of blinding silver light emitted from her wand, and out flew the image of an otter, dashing around the dementors. The last thing Draco saw before falling into unconsciousness was the otter rushing fearlessly toward the dementor hovering over his body.

Despite only having walked for a few hours, Hermione was drained by the excessive use of magic. Never before had she attempted to produce such a strong Patronus. The dementors, while not having taken her soul, had viciously stolen any energy she had stored up during their last break. Draco was still unconscious on the ground. His color, though always pale, had yet to recover from the deathlike hue it had taken on during the dementor attack. She ran over to his limp form, taking his head in her lap.

"Draco? Draco please wake up," She pleaded with him, desperately hoping for his eyes to flutter open. "Come on, Draco, you're stronger than this!" She took her wand out of her pocket and produced a stream of cold water, splashing his face with it. _Eneverate,_ Hermione whispered, trying everything she could to wake him from his slumber. After a few minutes of pleading with Draco's unconscious body, Draco sputtered awake. His eyes were unfocused, but he felt the warmth of Hermione's body close to his. He looked up to find concern boring down upon him, but he instead focused on the small smile of relief her lips displayed.

"Granger... an otter? Really?" He whispered out, his mouth curling to form his signature smirk.

"An otter who managed to save you," Hermione stiffly responded, defensive of her Patronus. "I will have you know that otters are cunning and courageous, and above all else, they are _loyal_." She smiled fondly thinking about the form her magic had chosen to take. "Now come on you prat, I don't want more dementors to pass this way. We have to find a safe place to rest." Hermione stood, and reached down a hand for Draco, steadying his body as he shakily got to his feet. As he went to take another step forward, he faltered, almost falling to the ground. Hermione reached in, placing his muscular arm around her shoulders, her hand wrapping around his waist. Supporting some of his weight, Hermione kept them moving forward, her eyes scanning the dark cave for anything to conceal themselves behind. After a few minutes of searching, Hermione saw a large rock towering in the corner. Though it was a bit obvious, it would provide them with cover if they should need it.

Still supporting Draco's weight on her shoulder, Hermione moved them in the direction of the rock formation, tucking behind the dark alcove it provided. _This will have to do for now_ , Hermione thought, before quickly leading them over to the shadows. Putting up a variety of wards around their space, Hermione felt satisfied that they could buy themselves a quick rest before moving forward. Without it, they would be nearly useless anyway, Hermione reasoned. Draco had yet to speak since walking away from the dementors. His usual pallor had not returned to his face. He looked sullen, shaken by whatever misery he had been forced to relive.

While curious, Hermione thought better of questioning him on it now. She was sure there would be times in the future to do so. He had mentioned not having an ideal childhood, that his life had been filled with very few happy memories, and she knew he could have heard a number of horrors. Hermione took watch while Draco lay against the rocks to sleep. She could offer him nothing else at the moment to ease his pain. For the next hour, while Draco rested, Hermione thought of all the happy memories in her life that the war had ruined, of all the lives that were no longer the same. _War really is hell,_ she sadly thought, losing herself in her thoughts.

Some time later, Hermione shook Draco awake. It was time to start moving again. He begrudgingly agreed, standing carefully and testing his legs. He seemed to be back to normal. Just as Hermione turned to leave, Draco timidly whispered after her.

"Hermione... thank you. For what you did back there. You really are brilliant...Even if your Patronus is the least fearsome creature I have ever seen." Hermione chuckled at Draco's attempted civility. _Arse._ She gave him a small smile of acknowledgement before continuing forward.

* * *

"What?! _Obviously,_ Jobberknoll feathers are the _only_ ingredient one can use to make a proper memory potion," Hermione corrected Draco's previous assumption. Draco rolled his eyes at the Gryffindor.

"Well, then you're madder than I thought. Eagle owl feathers are _just_ as effective and _much_ easier to come by." Draco felt Hermione's eyes on him, judging his intelligence. "Sometimes playing by the book is not the way to go," Draco stated matter of factly. Hermione looked skeptical. Books had never steered her wrong in the past, and her faith in them would remain unwavering, despite what Draco had to say. Their aimless chatter had been quite constant since they had begun moving forward again, and Hermione was finding that she did not mind the company of the man next to her at all. In fact, she rather enjoyed his witty remarks and cleverness. He had the ability to keep up with her mind, matching her curiosity and inquisitiveness with ease. Time went by much faster during their light conversation.

Although the walk had started out awkward this morning before the dementor attack, conversation seemed inevitable now. The dark, empty cavern would have driven them both mad if they had not started speaking again, which, Hermione assumed was part of Voldemort's design. That was initially Hermione's reason for opening dialogue, to drown out the incessant echoes of water droplets, but what had stemmed from that was unexpected. Draco brought up Hermione's favorite subject, books, and the two had a lovely discussion about which they preferred more. Hermione loved to be challenged, and Draco was certainly providing her with one. She was still ever intrigued about his past but found that the more she learned about him, the more other details that she longed to know emerged.

At some point over their treacherous journey through the Labyrinth, something had changed between them. An understanding had been formed that bound them to this place, and to each other. Draco knew he was coming to care for the woman. Truly care. The thought of not seeing her if they ever made it out of here was concerning to him. She knew his darkest secrets, his fears, his struggles, in a way that no one before her had, and only in a few days. Everything had changed between them, and frankly, Draco was intrigued by it.

As they kept walking forward, Hermione suddenly stopped, intently listening before quickly ducking down behind a rock. Draco, noticing the concern marring her face, followed her lead. Then, Draco heard it. _Footsteps._

One set...

then another...

and another...

Hermione crouched against the rock, not daring to move for fear of being seen. The footsteps of the Death Eaters drew closer, the clicking sound of shoes against the hard ground echoing louder with each step. Draco was crouched beside her, afraid to take even a single breath. The slightest of sound would alert the Death Eaters to their presence, and then there would be no hope for them. Hermione's brain furiously worked. What could they do? She scanned the cavern for any secure hiding places.

Looking to her right, Hermione suddenly saw a light flickering far off in the distance. Perhaps that is the end of the cavern? Shaking Draco's shoulder, she pointed down the end of the hall. Draco's eyes lit up with understanding. Still crouching, he swiftly darted behind another rock, moving in the direction of the light. Hermione followed his lead, both of them ducking behind rocks, weaving their way closer to the light.

" _Oye! Over there, there's movement_!" A deep man's voice growled in the distance, footsteps ringing through the cavern. Before Hermione knew what was happening, Draco had grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, running towards the light.

"Come on!"

It was only a few meters away now. Spell after spell flew past their dodging bodies. Draco was running in uneven patterns to avoid being hit, dragging Hermione behind him. Bright lights lit up the dark caverns as they ran for their lives. _Just a bit further..._

As they approached the light, they saw that it was coming from a room, a wooden door was propped open at the entrance. At the last moment, Draco and Hermione dove into the room, reaching simultaneously to pull the door closed.

The door sealed shut with a loud crack. Rock formations sprung up from the ground, blocking the exit before the door completely disappeared into the wall. Draco and Hermione, still breathing heavy, surveyed the room. There was no other way out. In front of them, a long wooden table was set up. Atop it, several bottles of varying shapes and sizes were lined up. A piece of parchment lay in front of the bottles.

"You alright?" Draco asked. Hermione simply nodded before turning to the paper on the table. Draco followed her over to the table, staring down at the parchment.

_"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide  
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;  
Second, different are those who stand at either end,  
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;  
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,  
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right  
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."

"What in the actual bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" Draco stated in exasperation. Hermione barely registered his words, as her brain began turning, her eyes closed in concentration. The small crease in-between her eyebrows formed.

"I've heard this before" Hermione whispered, though more to herself than Draco. "Why does this sound so familiar?"

"You've had to figure this out before? Do you spend all your free time solving riddles for fun?" Draco said, sounding almost disgusted by her admission. He may be smart, but that did not mean he spent his time torturing himself with riddles _for fun._

"Draco that's it! I've done this before. Do you remember when the Sorcerer's Stone was hidden in Hogwarts? We.. Well, anyway the stone was kept hidden by a series of tasks. Severus created this puzzle." Draco's heart sank at the mention of his old mentor. Voldemort must have had Severus help him construct the elaborate Labyrinth before his death, while he was still unaware of his allegiance to the Order.

"Great, so which bottle are we drinking?" Draco eyed them all suspiciously.

"I... I don't exactly remember. But if it helps, last time I did this Harry didn't die." Hermione shrugged her shoulders sheepishly before setting off to work. She examined the parchment, muttering under her breath the entire time. Draco was fascinated by her absolute focus. He could almost see her brain working behind her expressive eyes.   
  
Finally, a spark registered. Draco watched the moment her brown eyes caught fire with understanding. 

Hermione paused for a moment, carefully going over her words, "Have you ever done a trust fall before?" 

Draco shook his head. "A trust fall?"

"It's a childhood game that muggles play. One person has to fall backwards into another's arms. You have to trust them to catch you before you hit the ground..." Hermione's voice drifted off before she looked Draco in the eyes. He was still observing the bottle in her hand suspiciously, but he finally nodded his head, understanding her reference. This was his moment to trust her. She had yet to lead them astray yet, and, of the few people he trusted his life with, he knew he could drink the potion and not worry about death. Before she could protest, he reached for the bottle, grabbing it from her fingers.

"Bottoms up Granger," Draco tilted his head toward Hermione, before drinking a few sips from the bottle. Her fingers brushed his as she took the glass vile from him, and she tilted her head back to finish the remaining liquid.

Next to her, Draco was surveying the room. Nothing had changed. He felt no different. He looked no different.

"Great you chose the wro-" Draco began, just before the wall to their left suddenly turned translucent. They had uncovered another portal. 

Smugly, Hermione looked at Draco."You were saying?" She sang, her voice bouncing with amusement.

"How are you always bloody right? It's really rather annoying."

"As opposed to me being wrong and poisoning us?" She challenged back, her smile still radiating on her face.

Huffing in exasperation, Draco grabbed Hermione's hand in his own and walked them toward the portal. His stomach was in knots. If the map was right, this would be the final level before they could escape. He could almost feel their freedom now. Without another glance back, Draco took the plunge into their final test, still gripping Hermione's hand as though his life depended on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: THE LOGIC PUZZLE IS NOT MINE. I REPEAT THE LOGIC PUZZLE IS NOT MINE. That is from the Sorcerer's Stone written by the magical J.K. Rowling. All credit and ownership goes to her.


	7. Chapter 7

The force of the portal threw them without mercy on the ground of the new level. Hermione landed unceremoniously on top of Draco's chest, forcing the air to leave his lungs and causing their limbs to tangle together in the dirt.

"Normally I wouldn't mind a woman on top of me, but now is really not the time Granger," Draco breathlessly teased.   
  
Hermione swatted his chest. Despite her fiery temper, Draco saw her lips twist up into a small smile. Truly, they were both elated to be past yet another level. Getting to her feet, Hermione extended her hand to help lift Draco up. Her casual touch no longer made him uncomfortable. They were well past that particular challenge, as it paled in comparison to all they had faced together thus far. Draco winced in pain and stretched his legs. His abused body was aching in areas he didn't even know existed. _One more level Draco, we can do this,_ he mentally prepared himself for the unknown tasks facing them.

Draco squinted through the foggy surroundings. Just like the prior level, the darkness encompassed everything. Through the hazy shadows, Draco made out the undeniable shape of tombstones; Beside him, Hermione gasped and placed her hand on his arm. The rough grey markers were neatly lined in rows that extended far beyond what Draco's eyes could see. Hundreds upon hundreds of graves expanded along the entire field, placed upon the rolling hills.  
  
 _Are these war casualties? Prisoners?_ Draco's mind could not comprehend the destruction that would be necessary to cause such loss of life. Just beyond the resting dead, atop one of the taller hills, sat a considerable house. Its height was ominous against the enchanted night sky, illuminated only by the light of a full moon. Draco shivered. _Here's to hoping there are no more bloody werewolves..._

" _Accio portkey",_ Draco whispered, and the darkness swallowed his words. After a few moments of waiting, he shrugged his shoulders. Their escape would have to be made in a different way.

"Do we try for the house?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes were squinting through the fog, analyzing their surroundings just as he had. Going towards the house could very well prove to be a trap, but, as Hermione looked out at the expansive graveyard, she could see no other logical place to go. They either chose to stay amongst the dead or move towards the house.

"You read my mind," Draco casually stated. Taking a step in front of Hermione, he began to lead the way through the rows of the resting dead. While Draco knew that Hermione was more than capable of taking care of herself -and him for that matter- he still felt the strong urge to walk in front of her, seeking out for any danger. Draco was finding it increasingly hard, if not impossible, to justify his actions toward the Gryffindor heroine. Despite his normal penchant for self-preservation, Draco scanned their surroundings hawkishly, while also making sure to check for Hermione's presence behind his. Her warmth close to his back caused a pleasant clenching deep in his stomach. 

The pair moved slowly, despite the need for haste. The grim reality of walking through a graveyard rested heavily on their shoulders. Being surrounded by death was not a new experience for either of them, but something about seeing the extent of the carnage, the eerie silence of the resting dead caused a ringing in Draco's ears. Glancing down, he realized with a sick twist of his stomach that he recognized more than a few of the names. 

"Hermione... these graves. Do you suppose they were all prisoners?"

"I honestly don't know. They can't all have been though. There are some Death Eaters here, known Slytherin families," Hermione's voice was low and calculating.

"That does not mean they weren't prisoners," Draco frostily responded. His life hadn't meant anything to Voldemort in the end, regardless of his family name. Voldemort had loyal followers, but the Dark Lord proved he was loyal to no one but himself and his damn snake.

Hermione's heart pounded uncomfortably in her chest as she read the names. All of these people. Gone. Hermione was more anxious than she had felt in her entire imprisonment. If this many were dead, what horrors did the outside world hold? Shivers overtook her shoulders as she struggled to keep her composure. Each step she took, each grave she passed, Hermione nervously glanced down, hoping that the names would not be of those she held dearest to her heart.

As Hermione weaved her way through the eerie graveyard, she noticed Draco's footsteps were suddenly absent. _Had he stopped walking?_ She had been so lost in the names of the deceased, that she had not heard the moment when Draco disappeared. She quickly turned, her blood speeding up in her veins. _Where did he go?_ Hermione whipped her body around, panic rising in her spine. Through the fog and the darkness, it was difficult to see more than a few arm lengths in front of her. Going back in the direction she had just come, she followed her way through the stones. Hermione's eyes were darting all around, looking for her companion in the darkness. Finally, she saw his shadowy figure ahead.

Even from a distance, she could see he looked deathly still. His eyes were locked on the grave in front of him. Hermione hesitantly walked up next to the Malfoy heir. He made no motion to acknowledge her, the surroundings had seemingly faded from his mind. Hermione walked so she was standing beside him.

And then she saw what Draco was staring at so intently.   
  
Hermione's hand traveled up to her mouth in shock, a strangled choking noise escaping her lips. Her small breath broke Draco out of his thoughts.

His normally impassive face crumbled. His eyes squeezed shut in pain, and his lips quivered, pulling into a deep frown. The bags under Draco's eyes were pronounced, and the deep shadows they cast made him look well beyond his years. He sank to his knees in front of the grave, resting his head against the cool, rough stone. Draco was not one to cry, nor show emotion, but he could not stop the tears from streaking down his face.

His mother was dead; lost to a battle she never wanted, for a cause that never truly captured her heart.   
  
Only her name was on the stone, neatly carved in large script. The ground under their feet seemed freshly toiled, and Draco knew it had been only weeks, maybe days, since she had passed. In life, Narcissa was a cold woman, and there was no question about her pureblood upbringing, but despite her character, she had loved him unconditionally. Perhaps she was one of the few who ever actually did. _And now she's gone..._ Draco's heart stopped for a moment, too agonized to beat. The anguish he had felt thus far in the war could not compare to this.

Hermione, heartbroken at his despair, kneeled on the ground beside him. Cautiously, she reached out a hand and rested it on his shoulder. She had never really known Narcissa, but Hermione surmised that a mother's love ran deeper and more powerful than any other magic that existed.

The longer they stayed kneeling beside one another, the more Draco's emotions overtook him. The mental and physical damage of the last months, coupled with the loss of the only person he cared for, was just too much to compartmentalize. Just before he knew he could take no more, he twisted his body to embrace Hermione. Never before had he experienced such suffering, and never before had he needed someone as much as he did now. Without hesitation, Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco, deepening the hug.

"I'm sorry," she breathed into his ear over and over, until Draco felt her sympathy in his bones. 

The pair sat kneeling on the ground, finding comfort in each other's arms for a few minutes while Draco controlled his emotions. He tried to set his breathing to match Hermione's, using her heartbeat as a guide to steady his own heart, which felt broken in his chest. Finally, Draco spoke in hushed, but hoarse whispers against her neck.

"My mother...she never wanted this life. She never believed in blood purity. Much like myself, she saw status as coming from power, from money and upbringing." Once Draco began speaking, the words tumbled out of his mouth, purging from his brain, "But she loved my father, blindly and unconditionally, and so I was raised just like him. Even though..."Draco's breathing had finally slowed a bit, and clearing his throat, he pulled his face back so he was staring into Hermione's inquisitive eyes, "Even though she was cold, we were close. We understood each other without words. I'm perceptive like she is... was." Hermione noted that Draco's eyes had turned to a dull grey when set against the bloodshot, watery background.

"She always tried to protect me, especially once my father fell out of Voldemort's graces, and I was sent on missions clearly designed to kill me. But I somehow managed to survive, and then... well anyway, my mother saved Harry's life during the Battle of Hogwarts," Hermione's eyebrows shot up on to her forehead. _So that's how he survived..._

Draco continued, "My mother had a plan to get us all to safety, but my _father_ ," Draco spit out the word like poison, "sold us out to make one final push for power. Voldemort gave him a choice, his life, or mine. And my father chose to put me in this hell as punishment, as a way to humiliate our family name. I never knew what happened to my mother," Draco's words felt like hot iron in his throat. He could see Hermione processing every word he said, mulling it over in that large brain of hers.

"Draco, if you knew your father was wrong, why didn't you seek help sooner? I mean the Order could have-"

" _The Order_ would have done nothing for me. I would have been treated as a spy and a traitor after what happened to Dumbledore," Draco seethed, the anger Hermione had come to know him for when they were at Hogwarts was steadily creeping back into his words.

"They would have never harmed you," Hermione vehemently disagreed. "You're intelligent. Far more intelligent than I gave you credit for. Why did you stand by and watch the world burn? You are better than that," Hermione continued, pressing Draco for answers. Despite the change in Draco and all she had learned about him, Hermione could still not understand his cowardice when tasked with doing what was right. She herself had always fought for what was right, even if it meant sacrifice. She often did so without thinking. Draco had spent years tormenting her at school, even when no others were around to witness his bullying, evidence of his misguided upbringing. 

Draco's face hardened, "I will always do what I need to survive. Haven't you figured that out? I was raised to be my father's mirror. Whether or not you have thought me a coward, I have logically navigated my way through this storm. I am alive because of _my_ decisions," His voice was once again cold, and his aristocratic mask was slipping into place on his features.   
  
Whatever moment had just occurred between them was slipping away. Hermione sighed in frustration. Years of habit could not be broken in a few days.

"Draco, you always had a choice. There is never one path in life. I thought you a coward before, and to some extent I still do." Hermione got to her feet, brushing the dirt off her knees before extending a hand to Draco. "But I understand your reasoning better I suppose, which is a start isn't it?" Her lips turned up in a teary simper, causing her eyes to brighten only slightly.

_Just a start?_ Draco questioned to himself as he grabbed her hand. This was more than a start. His tears and weaknesses had been shared in a way that no other beside Hermione had seen. Draco's stomach felt light, and his heart seized for a moment when her hand let go of his own. Deep in his gut, he felt the quickly growing need to make her understand more about himself. He wanted to know her more as well, a dangerous feeling that he was unacquainted with. No, this was well beyond a start. But still, Draco was agitated with himself. This place had him too damn emotional for his taste, his mood oscillating at a sickening pace.   
  
Keeping his cool exterior in place, which contrasted deeply with his inner turmoil, Draco took one last glance at his mother's grave. He kept trying to convince himself that she was better off in the ground, instead of at the mercy of the Death Easters, but in reality that gave little solace to his aching soul. Draco noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hermione was intently studying his every move.

_Here's to hoping she never learns to read minds,_ Draco thought. Though, with her intelligence, he was slightly frightened of the possibility. He nodded his head slightly towards Hermione, the only woman to successfully challenge him besides his mother, and started walking forward once again.

As they walked forward, Hermione could not help but think over Draco's words. Narcissa had saved Harry. Draco's own father had put him in prison. She felt a deep pity for Draco, though she would never openly admit it to him. Not that he would ever want her pity; he was much too stubborn for that. The mansion was growing larger in her vision, and Hermione began to think about their next move. What were they to do once they got out? Would Draco stay with her? Hearing his story, she knew he had nowhere else to go, but he seemed so opposed to joining the fight against Voldemort. Hermione let out a frustrated groan. The Order, if there still was one, would be nearly impossible to locate after all these months. Perhaps they could still go back to headquarters and start tracking them from there, Hermione planned.

The planning only served to cause Hermione anxiety for what the outside world held, more so than ever before. How would Harry and Ron react to Draco? How would she react to them? Were they any closer to winning the war? Judging by the vast scope of the graveyard, things on the outside were likely dismal.

While lost in her thoughts, Hermione noticed that on the ground by her foot was a single white flower. Bending down, Hermione plucked the stem to examine the only sign of life she had seen so far on this level. _Peculiar._

"Draco, does it seem odd to you that the Death Eaters have yet to come after us?" Hermione questioned. They were the only living things for as far as the eye could see, and the deathly quiet seemed to be lulling them into a false sense of security.

"As I said before, the prison was meant to be self-regulating. Voldemort organized it so that those monsters already within the Labyrinth would control it, much like the Dementors of Azkaban. Voldemort trusts very few people. His Death Eaters have more of a chance to be imprisoned than most honest..." Draco's voice drifted off as the ground around them began to tremor slightly, before breaking out into an arduous shake.

"You just had to go and jinx us, didn't you?" Draco muttered agitatedly to Hermione, noting she had dropped the white flower back on the ground. Her eyes looked like that of a doe, large and frozen with fear. Draco followed her gaze; he saw the dirt around the graves shifting. Suddenly, a bony hand emerged through the dark soil. And then another.

_Inferi._

The ground continued to tremble. Hermione let out a gasp as the dirt began churning under their feet.

"Hermione, run!" Draco yelled, cutting through the silence like a knife. No sooner than his yell registered in her ears, Hermione found herself sprinting ahead of him. Draco noted that she was still limping, and his concern for her grew. Their pace would not be fast enough should the inferi catch them before they reached the mansion. Draco analyzed the distance to the mansion and estimated they had at least a few minutes before they would be able to take shelter, maybe longer given the large hill it sat atop. He pulled the wand out of his pocket, and began casting fire towards the ground, stunning the inferi as they grasped to the surface. He dared to look back for only a moment but saw that a few dozen of the bodies were now pulling themselves completely out of the ground. _Fucking great..._

As Draco went to turn back around, a bony hand shot from the ground, clutching at his ankle. He let out a cry, alerting Hermione to his distress. Without a moment's hesitation, Hermione paced back, shooting off a stream of fire from her wand. The area around his ankle quickly warmed, and the bony hand let go.

"You could have bloody burned me!" He glared at her as she helped him off the ground.

"You're welcome..." Hermione smugly shot back, and again the two took off running. Every so often another hand or an arm would come close to their feet, and another jet of fire would erupt from one of their wands. The mansion was just a few meters away when Hermione stopped and turned around.

From their spot on the hill, they could see more of the graveyard. The ground looked alive with movement, bubbling and churning. Thousands of bodies were now moving towards them with great speed. From her left, she heard Draco utter, _incendio._ The ground around them turned a deep orange, and crackled for a moment before dying down.

"Without anything to hold the fire, it won't burn long enough to make a barrier," Draco called towards Hermione. Hermione's face contorted in indecision.

"What are you thinking?" Draco demanded, clearly panicked at the lack of time they had before the thousands of inferi descended upon them.

"It's stupid, and... and I've never done it before, I've only read about it. I don't know if I can," Hermione stuttered out, still thinking through her rash decision.

"And here I thought there was nothing you weren't capable of," Draco goaded back. Whatever she was thinking, Draco had full confidence it would work. He just had to convince her of the same. "Scared of a little magic, Granger?" At that moment, Draco watched anger filter through Hermione's eyes, and her face set in determination.

Hermione cried out, holding her wand steady in front of her, and the darkness was suddenly alight with flames.

The curse that Hermione emitted from her wand was dark, and almost beyond her control. The only time she had ever seen it in action was Crabbe's failed attempt in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. Draco clearly remembered that moment as well, and he looked on in horror at the flaming monster erupting from Hermione's wand.

She tried not to focus on his reaction. _If I can just manage to control it..._ The flames were beginning to get the best of her. She tried to keep her hand steady against the wavering of the wand as it surged with power. The flames danced down the hill, setting the inferi ablaze in bright orange and red blasts.

Beasts of all sorts led the flaming charge as it sought out to destroy everything in its path. Hermione knew she would not be able to hold out much longer, and began to search her brain for the charm to cease the fire. Muttering under her breath, Hermione watched as the flames suddenly ceased. Most of the inferi who were nearby had all been burned, and piles of charred remains were scattered throughout the graveyard. Far off in the distance, Hermione and Draco could see a few remaining inferi, but, Hermione had given them time to search for an escape.

"What the hell sorts of books are you reading Granger?" An astonished Draco managed to croak out.

" _Never_ accuse me of being afraid of magic again," Hermione haughtily retorted, though, in all honesty, she was quite pleased with her skill. Draco, still a bit fearful of her power simply nodded in awe. Her confidence, which had seemed arrogant at Hogwarts was now impressive, and dare he say it, arousing. It certainly drew a part of him, the part that lusted for power, to her. Noticing Hermione had already begun to move to the front door, Draco sprinted to catch up.

The mansion was in a state of disarray. It was old, and the wooden shingles were falling off in places, replaced by thick vines and overgrowth. A few of the windows were cracked. The door was heavy and echoed loudly as it creaked open. The inside of the mansion was no better off than the outside. It smelled of rotting wood and must. The air was thick, and the house was shrouded in darkness.

Both Draco and Hermione stepped through the door, illuminating the way with their wands.

"I think we should search each room together, look for some sort of portal perhaps?" Draco proposed.

"Agreed. Let's start in the parlor," Hermione replied, moving swiftly into the room directly to their right.

What they came upon in the room was as unexpected as it was strange; perhaps stranger than any other sight within the Labyrinth thus far. Draco protectively stepped in front of Hermione, but she ducked under his arm.

Within the room were shadowy figures, transparent like ghosts, but they looked more lifelike. 

"That... Draco, I don't understand." Hermione whispered, astounded by the shadows in front of her, "Draco _that's me._ Those are my parents..." Her voice caught in her throat as she uttered the last word.

The shadows moved, playing out an echo of her childhood before them. Hermione looked at herself as a girl of no more than five or six. Her hair was messy as ever, splaying out in all different directions. Her father was at the piano, playing a tune while she twirled around the room. Her mother laughed from the opposite doorway at her playfulness. Hermione remembered this moment clearly, however, in the dank house it felt eerie, less happy than she had remembered it. The figures were too transparent to be real, but, that did not stop Hermione from feeling a sense of longing for her parents, for simpler days when the world was black and white before she knew about what horrors magic could unleash.

Hermione wondered where her parents were now. The constant ache in her chest that she tried to push aside came back in full force. She felt her heart speed up. Never again would she see her parents this happy, their smiling, loving, warm faces. There was no way to know if they were alive or not. Even if the war ended now, she doubted she could reverse what she had done. Memories were difficult, nearly impossible to control with magic. One could try to erase them, to monitor, and manipulate them, but sometimes, what was done was done. Perhaps the spell would dull with time, giving Hermione a chance to revert it back, but, she had little hope of that happening.

She glanced over at Draco, only to see that he was fixated on the doorway leading to the dining room. Barely willing to tear her eyes from her own memory, but knowing that these shadows were not real, she carefully walked over to Draco.

At the table sat three figures, the Malfoy heir and his parents. Though much younger, they still looked stiff, and there was no talking. In stark contrast to Hermione's memory, this one felt cold, not because of the setting, but because of those it involved. Lucius sat, ever stoic, while Narcissa kept her eyes only on her plate. Draco looked to be a boy of only eleven, similar to how he looked when Hermione had met him for the first time at Hogwarts.

"Draco," the icy voice of Lucius Malfoy never ceased to send chills through Hermione's heart, "remember, tomorrow when we put you on the Hogwarts express, only keep company with those who will add power to our name. Never forget that you are a Malfoy. Do I make myself clear?" Lucius stared on as an apathetic Draco nodded his head. Pleased with his son's response, Lucius stood from the table and left, gliding through the wall.   
  
Narcissa smiled lightly at Draco, the first time Hermione had ever seen any expression other than aloof on the woman's face, and she reached out and grabbed his hand. "The best years of my life were spent at that school. Do what you think is best for our family... but more importantly, do what is best for yourself, Draco. Never forget that you are a Malfoy." The warmness in Narcissa's voice was out of place in the stoic setting, and yet, it permeated the coolness of the room. Young Draco smiled at his mother's words.

Hermione glanced up at Draco, seeing that he was completely fixated on the scene. Their eyes met, both glassy with unshed tears. These memories pulled on heartstrings that both had stored away, in a place no others had ever seen.

"Your mum, she was different around you," Hermione observed aloud. "Warmer."

Draco nodded in agreement, wiping subtly at his nose. "She was the only person who cared for me. I was always jealous of you, you know. It's one of the many reasons why I despised you at school," Draco was first to break the silence. "No matter what shitty event was going on, you always seemed to smile through it. You and your idiot friends..." Draco shook his head incredulously, "You were always laughing together at meals, joking in the halls."

"You were never alone either though, you certainly had friends..." Hermione's mind unpleasantly flashed back to the girls who worshipped Draco's presence while they were at Hogwarts.

Draco cut her off with a scoff before she could finish. "I had followers. I had people who feared me. I had people who, like our parents, were drawn to power, power which I held." Draco turned, his chest grazing her own, sending warm electricity through her body. "I never had closeness. I was expected to be cold and collected at all times. When my family started to falter, when during my 6th year the Dark Lord tasked me with killing Dumbledore," a shiver ran down Draco's spine at the mere thought, "I felt more alone than ever. I needed someone, anyone there for me. And I had no one. And it terrified me more than anything. It's when I realized I could not follow in my father's footsteps, nor did I want to," Draco gently grabbed Hermione's shoulders and turned her around to face the shadow of her parents. "You had people who loved you," Draco whispered, his warm breath caressing the back of her neck, "parents who would die for you." Guilt seized Hermione's heart, and she turned around under Draco's hands. Looking up at him, she told him her greatest regret in life.

"I took their memories. One of the worst things you can do to another person...and I did it. To keep them safe." Draco noticed the pain in her eyes and placed his hand on her shoulder again, steadying her shivering body. Cautiously, he placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face so he could inspect her eyes. Unlike himself, Hermione's face was an open book of emotions. She was expressive and warm, her eyes painting a stunning picture of what was going on in her head.

"Draco, when we get out of here I want you to promise me you will never tell another soul what I've told you in here. No one can know what I did..."

Draco nodded. He knew he did not need to ask the same of her. He trusted their conversations would remain between them. Perhaps it was the emotional toll and exhaustion of the last days that was making Draco so forthcoming with personal details regarding his life, but he found that the more he shared, the more comforted he felt. But... Draco shook his head slightly. If he became any more damn emotional he feared he would turn into a Gryffindor.

"Damn you, Hermione," Draco's tone was cold, but his eyes held unshed tears. "You're turning me into a wimpy bastard like your friends." Hermione chuckled.

"Goodness forbid that happen," she feigned fear, rolling her eyes to the amusement of Draco. "Let's get you away from these feelings before you catch them then, shall we?"

Despite walking away from the memories, Hermione could not help but wonder why Voldemort would enchant the old house in such a way. What purpose did reliving their memories serve? Perhaps, it was meant to drive one mad, or to weigh upon the mind? Hermione could really only guess, and once again, she felt resigned to leave that particular puzzle alone for the time being.

Some residual fire still burned outside the window, but the unaffected inferi were beginning to creep up to the house.

"What do we do?" Hermione muttered mostly to herself.

"We keep looking. Let's head upstairs and check the bedrooms."

The stairs creaked worse than the door had, and Hermione's head was pounding by the time they had reached the top of the steps. There were four rooms on this level of the house, and they searched each to no avail.

"Dammit!" Draco hissed in frustration as they were turning to leave the final room in the house. Through the window, Hermione could see a hoard of inferi was getting near, and they were no closer to finding anything than when they had started. She echoed his frustration with a moan of her own. This was getting to be hopeless. _How are we going to get out of here,_ she thought in exasperation.

As Hermione turned to exit the room though, she knocked a book off one of the shelves behind her. The bookcase groaned out in protest and began to move, swinging outward. Hermione jumped back in time before it crushed her against the wall. Dust and dirt flew through the air, causing her to cough slightly.

Before them was a large mirror, like the one that they had passed through in the last level. It was emitting a soft blue glow. Draco barked out a deep laugh. Hermione responded to his laugh with one of her own, but just as she was about to make light of their good fortune, Hermione heard as the glass of one of the downstairs windows was smashed, and the inferi entered the house.

Without a moment to spare, Draco grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled them through what was hopefully their passage to freedom.

* * *

As they emerged from the portal, Draco let out a horrified moan.

"Please tell me we are not back in _another_ fucking maze." The hallways were identical to the stone maze they had escaped from just days ago. "Fucking hell!" Draco screamed out, no longer fearful of who heard him. Hermione gripped his arm, too horrified to speak. Had they gone back to the beginning? Was this all a sick joke?

A child's giggle echoed down the Labyrinth hallway, causing the hairs on Draco's arms to stand in horrified attention.

Draco tensed as Hermione's nails dug into his arm, clearly fearful that they were no longer alone.   
  
At the end of the hallway, a small, silvery shadow began moving toward them. As the figure moved closer, Draco could make out that it was indeed the ghost of a young girl.

"Mr. Malfoy, your language is awful," The young ghost stated. Her voice was light and wispy, but cold. There was something sinister behind her innocence.

"Who are you?" Hermione questioned. There was an edge in her voice that alerted Draco to her own lack of confidence in the ghostly child.

"I am Millie. I'm here to guide you to the final task," She stated, her tone clinical. "If you would please follow me."

"Wait!" Hermione called out. "Why should we follow you? Where are you leading us?"

"I do not like to repeat myself, Ms. Granger. I am leading you to the final task. As for your first question, you should follow me if you do not want to die. There is no other exit to this level besides the one I will lead you towards."

Hermione and Draco both exchanged defeated glances. It seemed they had no other option but to follow the young ghost. Draco did not feel confident in this prospect, but in his gut, he knew there were no other choices. So, begrudgingly, Hermione and Draco walked side by side down the hallway, following after Millie. Draco could not help but note how much things had changed between them. Last time they were walking down a hallway like this, they were fighting incessantly, and there was no trust. Now, Draco could not picture succeeding without Hermione by his side. 

Millie led them to a dead-end where before them a door appeared. The door clicked open, and taking a nervous breath, Draco passed through with Hermione following close behind. As they entered, the door quickly slammed shut behind them, disappearing completely from the wall. At Hermione's cry, Draco instinctively wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her near to him. 

The room, which was dimly lit by candles on the walls, was completely empty save for a single table set up in the middle. Atop the table was a glowing blue, glass orb, like those Trelawney used in her classrooms. Hermione and Draco stayed frozen in each other's embrace, both hesitant to take the next step. Hermione, further sensing the utter fear of the man standing next to her, grabbed his hand tightly, and gave a reassuring squeeze. The mask of coolness he normally kept plastered over his face dropped momentarily, revealing his gratitude for her presence. He nodded at her in acknowledgment before walking them further into the room. In front of them, the ghost reappeared. Her childlike innocence seemed even more false than before. Hermione could not help but feel the young spirit was enjoying watching their suffering.

"This is the final task," the ghost stated, staring blankly ahead. Her eyes seemed to gaze straight through them, causing a shiver to run down Hermione's spine. "This final task is a test of your will to leave. Should you choose to leave, you will be giving up that which is most precious to you."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach, as the ghost continued. "You must present the Dark Lord with your memories. A quota is to be filled. Once you place your hand upon the orb, your debt will be paid, and you will leave the prison."

"Our... memories?" Hermione was deeply perplexed, trying to process how exactly this was going to happen. _How in the world is this possible?_ Hermione ignored the others in the room and thought for a moment. They would have to pay their debt in the form of memories - _a final test of our will to leave._

_That explains why Voldemort tormented us with our memories earlier_ , Hermione bitterly thought. _That bastard._ When no one spoke, Hermione voiced her thoughts.

"It's.. well it's brilliant actually. Voldemort's final reassurance that his prison will remain hidden. Whoever escapes will have no memory of the place." Hermione frowned. Yes, brilliant. Mad, but intelligent; the worst sort of enemy. Turning towards the ghost, Hermione began to question her. "How many memories does this require? And how exactly are our memories being measured?"

"I cannot tell you," the ghost replied, completely indifferent to their predicament.

"So we are each required to fill the quota, or will the quota be met between the two of us?"

The ghost smiled slyly, "An interesting question Ms. Granger. You both are the first to escape," Hermione's heart sank into her stomach at that thought, "Never was it intended for two to make it this far."

"You didn't answer my question," Hermione bit out, her frustration rising.

"I cannot tell you," The ghost answered simply.

"Why not?" Hermione's frustration was evident in her voice, but the ghost merely smiled, and once again faded out of the room. Hermione and Draco were once again alone in a room which now had no other exit save for the memory stealing orb in front of them.   
  
Draco, contemplating their situation, decided to answer Hermione's question that the ghost had failed to.

"Another cruel joke by the Dark Lord. Imagine, seeing your fondest memories played out before you, and then having to give them up, without knowing how you will end up on the other side," Draco surmised. Hermione chewed over his words for a moment before nodding. That, sickeningly enough, made sense.

Draco thought about the final task. They were required to fill the quota by giving up their memories. The ghost had said that it was never intended for two to make it this far, so theoretically, if there was a quota, it was possible it could be met by one person, even if that person had to give up more of themselves. If one of them could make it out with the knowledge they had of Voldemort's plans and prison, perhaps it could be useful in his defeat. Draco stared at the orb in front of him. It had to be a portkey or portal of sorts. If Hermione held him while he touched the orb, he could likely pull her through.

Throwing away the last bit of his ego, his last piece of selfish pride, Draco whispered out, "Let me do this."

"No, Draco I won't-" Hermione immediately started to protest, but Draco took a step forward, placing a finger against her soft lips and tilting her chin up so she met his eyes. As she read the clear determination on his face, her eyes began to fill with tears.

Somewhere along this journey, Draco had shared his darkest fears and his deepest dreams with the woman crying before him. He had shared his past, his present, and pieces of his future with her. And during all that time, he slowly but surely realized that she had shared those things with him as well. She was his friend and most trustworthy confident, the only person left in the world who knew him. Any secrets they shared between them were locked, tightly sealed in a unique bond forged by the severity of their situation. Along the way, she had become a companion, and Draco knew now that their lives were to be forever intrinsically linked.

But even more so than their newfound companionship, Draco felt a gnawing at the edges of his soul. More than anything, he needed redemption. He needed something to save him from the wicked ways of his past, to make up for all the hurt he had caused, for standing complicit next to the evil in this world. No, this was his burden to bear, not hers. He thought momentarily of his mother. She had wanted Draco to escape this life, to live away from Voldemort's power.

"I have to do this."

"No, you don't. Please... I can't let you. We can both feed into the memory quota- and then.. and then when we get out..." Hermione pleaded again, but Draco shook his head. He saw that she had no better plan. If they both gave their memories, neither would know how to get back to this place. They would end up on the other side of the prison walls and likely kill each other from the confusion of their situation.

"Draco, I will not let you. I can't," her voice was openly shaking now as tears trailed down her delicate cheeks. Chills broke out on Draco's arms as he felt her voice quiver with care...for him.

"And then what? You know as well as I do that once I get out of here I am a wanted man. I have nowhere to go. I think... I mean... perhaps reaching the Order may be my only chance. But even _if_ I managed to find them without you, they would kill me for the state in which I'd be bringing you back. Beaten, starved, tortured... all without a memory? That would play out _really_ nicely, don't you think?" Draco tried everything he could to reason with Hermione, his agitated voice was rising ever so slightly. Despite her nurturing heart, he knew it went against her very nature to reason against logic. He kept to himself his own need for redemption. If she knew his real intentions behind giving his memory up, she would never let him go through with it. _Stubborn Gryffindor..._ But he saw the gears turning behind her eyes. He saw the moment she knew he was right, there was no other option.

Hermione threw herself towards his chest, her thin arms wrapping around his lithe body. For what he did not know. For him? For their situation? The weight of the world was certainly crashing down on them, and he could feel the guilt seeping out of her. The realization of what he was about to do, giving up his memories hit him hard. His life, however sad it was at times, was still precious to him.

All his nervous energy, the tight knot that had been slowly forming in his stomach over the last few days was bubbling inside him, aching for release. Desperation took over Draco. If he was going to give up everything, he wanted to form one final memory. _At least I don't have to live with the consequences of my actions anymore._ Draco did not have much happiness in his life to remember. Certainly none in the last few years. The imprisonment in the Labyrinth was just the finishing seal on his mostly pathetic existence. But despite the situation he currently faced, Draco felt surer than ever, and it was due to the tenacious, kind, slightly crazy woman wrapped in his arms; Her courage and kindness had allowed him to feel hope for the first time in years. He placed his lips to the top of her head. 

"Hermione... you're going to leave this place and end this war. The world needs you. _I_ need you to do this." Her fingers clutched him tighter, her face pressed firmly into his chest. Light sobs escaped her lips. His warmth enveloped her. "Because if there is anyone smart enough to solve this, it is clearly you. But you have to promise me one thing..." Draco paused, trying to calm the sentiment in his voice. Hermione looked up at his softening voice. She could not keep up with the emotions passing over his face.

He let out a deep breath before continuing. "Hermione...Don't give up on me. That's all I ask. I'm not a great man, but, " Draco shook his head, disbelieving the words that he was about to utter, "I don't know what my future will be, but it has to be different. I will not become what my father wanted for me." Hermione saw fear radiate from his eyes before it quickly disappeared into a slow-burning fire. "Don't let me become that. That's all I want." His deep, smooth voice trailed off into a whisper by the end of his plea to her.   
  
His face was inches from her own, and his eyes were locked on hers. Her hand reached up and delicately and stroked his stubbled cheek. Hermione was at a loss for words. She didn't want this. She began to memorize the kindness in his eyes that she had never before noticed under his cool facade, unsure of whether it would be the last time she would bear witness to its existence. She brushed his silvery locks out of his face. The unknown of his future scared her. She was not ready to lose whatever bond they had formed.

Their closeness over the last few days had grown quickly, but given their situation, it made sense. It felt right to Draco. Determination set in his eyes. He knew he must look like a madman to her, but he did not care. He was going to make his last memory from this life a happy one.   
  
Lifting her chin up, Draco lowered his lips to cover hers.

Hermione was shocked as she felt electricity flow through her veins as his soft mouth met her lips, as he deepened the kiss, as his fingers lightly, cautiously moved down her body; she found she could no longer ignore the butterflies in her stomach, which had taken flight at his touch. He left her breathless, wanting more as his lips left hers. His eyes were like molten silver, and in that moment, Hermione did not care about the penalty her actions might have outside the Labyrinth. Without thinking, Hermione gripped him tighter, pressing her body and lips against his own, needing to feel his heat through her clothing. Draco could taste the salt on her lips from where her tears had run down her face. He captured one of her hands in his own and held it against his chest. His heart had never felt such peace before, and his body was aroused by the passion he felt in their connection.

With their lips still locked, Draco reached out his free hand to grasp the orb on the table beside them.

Hermione pulled back slightly from Draco and cried out as she watched the spark that was in his eyes begin to fade. The room around them swirled, beginning to dissipate. Draco's scream echoed in her ears as the room faded into darkness. Hermione took one last glance up, reaching for Draco's confused face...

And just like that, there was nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione opened her eyes slowly. The ground underneath her was damp from the rain, and a chilled breeze whipped through the dense forest surrounding her. _Fresh air, we're outside._ The air was crisp, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. She sat up, her muscles creaking in protest.

_Draco._

Hermione's mind snapped into focus, and the scene before her eyes sharpened.

_Where is Draco?_

Stumbling to her feet, Hermione scanned the immediate area, looking for any signs of her blond companion. Her heart rate quickened with every passing second. She was certainly free; the air was not stale, and the forest was teeming with life and movement. Surely she had made it out.

But, she was alone.

"Draco!" She cried out. _Oh no. No no no_. _He has to be here_. She refused to think about him stranded alone inside the Labyrinth. Tears once again clouded her vision, and her chest tightened, causing her breaths to come out in shallow bursts. He had to be here. She tripped forward over dense overgrowth and trudged through muddy puddles, ignoring the sharp pain radiating from her insides.

"Draco!" She cried out a second time, desperation bleeding into her voice. The nagging logic inside her head told her to run, to keep her voice down, to keep moving forward so as not to be captured again. But her heart...her heart longed for her friend; The one who had sacrificed his greatest gift so that she could be free.

Frantically, she continued searching the forest. The tears now flowed steadily down her bruised cheeks.

_Where is he?_ Her body ached, and after what seemed like an eternity of searching, Hermione slumped against a tree, curling her knees up to her chin. This was all her fault. If he hadn't been so bloody stubborn... if only she had tried harder to find a way out, none of this would be happening.

And then there was the kiss. Despite the pain deep in her bones, Hermione's heart fluttered. His lips had been passionate yet slow, cautious yet determined.

_Damn you Draco_. _This is not how this was supposed to happen_. Her body was tired. Her mind was exhausted. However, she knew that there was absolutely no way she was leaving this forest without Draco in tow. Her conscience would not allow it. The forest was dense and clearly vast. It could take forever to find him if he had indeed managed to make it out safely. It took Hermione a few attempts to stand given her weak state, but her strength of mind won in the end, and she shakily got to her feet, taking off into the forest.

Before she made it far, Hermione froze as she felt the point of a wand at her back.

"For someone who is on the run, you make an awful lot of noise," a voice condescendingly whispered from behind her. The voice was rough and velvety, holding an equal amount of arrogance and aristocratic sophistication. It simultaneously warmed her heart and made her blood run cold. It was a voice that had just hours before brought her comfort.

"What the fuck is going on, Granger," Draco rasped out. His voice was hoarse, and Hermione could hear the confusion in his tone. But, he remembered her name. _He knows who I am_. She couldn't help but laugh as her good fortune seemed to be following her.

"Oh thank Merlin you're alright. Draco, please just put the wand down and I'll explain-"

"Since when are you allowed to call me by my first name? Turn around slowly," Draco growled and he took a threatening step closer, pushing the wand harder into the small of her back. Very slowly, Hermione took a few steps so her body was facing his. The wand he held was now pointed menacingly at her chest.

'"Draco, please...I need to know what the last thing you remem-"

"And why should I tell you that? No _mudblood_ orders a Malfoy to do anything." Draco's voice had taken on an edge colder and harsher than she had ever heard. His body was like that of a coiled snake, tense and ready to strike. His normally smooth, molten eyes had caught fire; Hermione could almost feel the anger heating the air around them. "The wand in your pocket... place it on the ground."

In this current state, he was dangerous, and Hermione knew she had to treat him as such. There was no knowing what he was planning, nor what he remembered. She had witnessed just how cunning he could be, and she would not let her emotions get the best of her. While she gave him credit for being clever, he had always been one to underestimate her. She slowly pulled the wand out of her pocket and dropped it on the ground.

"Granger, what in the bloody hell is going on?"

"Its... it's complicated-" Her words were cut short by a sharp glare from Draco. What was she supposed to say? That he gave up his memories to save her? He had no recollection of their last few days together, or, even worse, of his time in the prison. He likely had no knowledge of his father's betrayal, of Narcissa's death; before her stood a Death Eater. Hermione could not tell him the truth right now. It would likely get her killed if she did.

"Draco, do you remember hearing about the Labyrinth?" Hermione hesitantly questioned. He slowly nodded his head in response, trying to guess what she was going to tell him.

"We were... prisoners. We escaped but your memories were stolen in the process. Well, either stolen or masked, I'm not quite sure of the technical details," Hermione admitted sheepishly.

"Impossible. Besides, memories just don't go missing Granger," Draco bit out, his mistrust was written clearly on his face. "You expect me to believe that it wasn't you who failed to obliviate me?"

"Why would I do that?" Hermione tensed. He believed she was responsible for his lapse in memory. Evidentally, he had some memories of wartime, what with his knowledge of the Labyrinth, but just how far back his memory had been wiped she could only guess. He _clearly_ still had knowledge of his pureblood upbringing, though.

"Because we are enemies, Granger. We always have been," Draco spat out, unsure of how she could possibly be acting so dense.

A flurry of footsteps suddenly arose in the distance, crashing through the forest. The distinct popping noise of wizards and witches Apparating echoed off the trees.

"Draco we don't have time!" Hermione pleaded. Through the forest, the crashing became louder. She was out of time. Hermione opened her hand up, with her palm facing toward the ground and concentrated. She had only managed to perform wandless magic a handful of times, but this charm should be simple enough. Concentrating, she opened her mind and thought, _Accio Wand_. Before Draco noticed the wand flying up towards her hand, she was already pointing it at him. The two were locked in a dueling position. Draco was so shocked at her surprise use of magic, that he remained frozen for a few moments longer than he should have. Pointing her wand at Draco's confused features, Hermione whispered, "I'm so sorry to have to do this Draco, but it really is for your own good... _Imperio._ "

Draco's eyes glazed over, becoming blank as all willpower left his body. Hermione quickly walked up to Draco and securely grabbed his arm. He made no motion to move away from her, even though she knew he should be repulsed by her touch. In his current physical and mental state, Hermione doubted that he would be able to fight his way out of the curse, but, not wanting to underestimate him, she took his wand and stowed it in her front pocket for safekeeping. She gripped his arm tightly as she Disapparated.

* * *

They landed a few blocks away from 12 Grimmauld Place, down a small alley. Draco's eyes were, thankfully, still vacant. The pair looked bruised and tattered, and Hermione was relieved it was approaching night time, so they could hide amongst the darkness.

"Draco, I need you to follow me and do as I say. We are going to a safe location, but we must be certain we are not being followed. If you see anyone unusual alert me to their presence," Hermione told him in a hushed voice. Her arm was still linked with his, but knowing that he would likely not appreciate it as she did, she reluctantly let go of him.

Returning to 12 Grimmauld Place was certainly a risk; she had no idea who would be waiting for them, if anyone, once they arrived. But, given the severity of the situation, Hermione felt she had no other option. While the Order had long since vacated 12 Grimmauld Place, Hermione hoped it would give them a place to patch themselves up and rest for at least the night. The duo waited until after the sunset to make their move. His silence was deafening to her, but she tried to ignore the changes in him. His words had hurt her, but only in the way that they filled her with even more guilt about his sacrifice. She let out a long sigh. She just had to focus on their safety first, and then she could worry about bringing back his memories.

Together, they took off down the dark streets of London. Having navigated these roadways before, Hermione knew which places to duck into, and where all the lines of sight were. She led them quickly and quietly towards the old Order's headquarters.

As Hermione neared 12 Grimmauld Place she felt a newfound resolve set within her bones. Whatever trials she faced now, of which she knew there would be many, she vowed to herself that above all else she would keep her last promise to Draco. She would do everything in her power to restore his memory.

Before them, the house appeared, looking as portentous as ever.

"Draco, I need you to be absolutely silent when we get into the house," Hermione demanded. She did not want to alert anyone (or any paintings for that matter) to their presence until they had a chance to search the house themselves.   
  
Surprisingly, when they entered the headquarters, it was dark and quiet. There were no signs of anyone; the stale air indicated it had been this way for some time now. The hallway was swathed in complete darkness, save for the light emanating from Hermione's wand.   
  
She cringed as the echo of Dumbledore screamed his way down the hallway, dust flying in all directions. The house shook under their feet.

"So much for quiet..." Hermione thought, as the curtains over Walburga Black's portrait suddenly shot open and the old painting wailed.

"YOU FILTHY MUDBLOOD. YOU SCUM BREEDING-" Hermione ran down the hall to close the curtains.

"Draco help me with these!" She ordered breathlessly. Draco complied, walking over to help shutter the painting. The disturbance, however, left Hermione unfocused and shaken. In that moment, she did not notice that Draco's eyes were slowly sharpening once again, and the willpower she had forcibly taken from him was coming back. Draco blinked a few times as he broke free of the dreamlike state he had been in.

He remained quiet for a moment as Hermione worked to make sure the painting would no longer scream obscenities. _Where am I?_ Draco thought, confused at his entire situation. Why was Granger trying to kidnap him? Why had she taken his memories? In truth, the last thing he remembered clearly was sitting down with the Dark Lord to discuss the latest suicide mission he was tasked with, the killing of Albus Dumbledore. After that, he could recall nothing else. Regardless of how hard he thought, there was a dark void in his mind leading to the moment he awoke in the forest. Perhaps there had been an ambush of the Manor?

Now, the real question was, how was he to return? The Dark Lord would be furious at his capture; this sign of weakness, that the muggle-born witch could successfully imprison him, would yield a harsh punishment. But then he guessed he had always known of her brilliance; she was inferior in status perhaps, but not in power, despite what he had been raised to believe. His first order of business was to stun her. There was a chance that if he managed to present the Dark Lord with the best friend of Harry Potter, he and his mother's punishment would not be so severe. _Yes, that is the plan._  
  
When Hermione started to walk down the hall, Draco seized upon her unaware moment.

Grabbing her from behind, he lifted her small form off the ground, reaching around her front for the wand in her hand. She elbowed him mercilessly in the ribs, which to Draco's surprise were seemingly already injured. The wind in his lungs was forced out and he gasped for a moment in severe pain. Reaching forward, he latched his fingers into her mangled hair and pulled her back against his chest, again attempting to pry the wand out of her fingers. This maneuver sent the wand in her hand flying clear across the hall.

_No matter,_ Draco thought, as he began reaching for her front pocket. To her shock, Hermione felt his hands grope down her leg toward the front of her jeans. Both of her arms were now secured behind her back, which was pressed firmly against Draco's chest. His breathing was hot on her neck as their struggle escalated.

"Get off me you git!" Hermione screamed. Once again she worked to free her arms, continually turning her body so he could not reach her pocket. Her body was aching in pain, but, she imagined he was as well. She did not want to hurt him, but she realized she may have little option. Jumping slightly in his arms, Hermione managed to viciously kick his shin with her foot, causing him to cry out.

"You bloody insufferable bitch!" He yelled, as their bodies both plummeted to the ground, her lithe form on top of his. Again, the air in his lungs was forced out as he gasped against her weight. Hermione quickly reached for the wand in her pocket, pointed it at his chest and cried, _Stupefy_. His body instantly went limp under her own.

"Well, that could have gone better..." Hermione muttered angrily to herself as she stood up. She attempted to push some of her hair away from her face, but her fingers became tangled in the knots. Hermione took one blissful moment to imagine the shower that she had longed to take for months. "Just a bit longer Hermione," She said, repeating her mantra to herself.

Before she could figure out what to do with Draco, from out of the darkness, three wands pointed at her. In response she rose her own, knowing full well that her skill was no match for three wizards.

"Hermione, is that...is that really you?" Hermione recognized the voice of Arthur Weasley. The hallway was suddenly brightened by the lights of half a dozen or so wands, and she squinted against the intrusion.

"Blast it all- LET US THROUGH!" The booming voice of Ron loudly cut the silence of the hall. Hermione saw his gangly figure appear before her, and he was closely followed by a very disheveled looking Harry. Hermione's face lit up with relief. _They are okay. They made it._ A weight instantly lifted off her shoulders. She knew she would be okay. Harry took another few steps forward to embrace her, but Remus intercepted him, placing a hand of caution across Harry's path.

"Hermione?" Remus Lupin echoed, clearly shocked at the possibility that she was actually in front of them. Keeping his wand firmly pointed at her, he asked her a series of questions.

"How did you get to your classes during your third year?"

"By using a time turner," Hermione answered confidently. Remus asked a few more questions, of which Hermione answered clearly and confidently before a smirk broke out on Remus's face.

Remus began lowering his wand when he suddenly remembered Hermione was not alone. He pointed it at Draco's frozen form and went to speak, but Hermione beat him to it.

"Please, he is no danger. I... I have him temporarily stunned." Hermione's cheeks turned slightly pink at the memory of their earlier debacle.

"We know he isn't an immediate danger Hermione. We are the ones who unlocked his prison cell. I just have to question... what did he do to end up like, well, to end up like that?"

"You... you unlocked the cell doors?" Hermione's head began spinning. They were the ones who caused the cell doors to open, but how? And why let Draco out?

"Yes, we did. But, you have not answered my question. If he is no danger, why is he stunned?" Remus again cautiously asked.

"When we escaped..." Hermione shook her head slightly. She did not know how to begin explaining the final task. "To leave the Labyrinth you have to sacrifice your memories to Voldemort. We, well Draco really, figured out a way for only one of us to do so, so I would still have memories of the place. It was quite brilliant, but unfortunately, he no longer remembers his imprisonment, or why he should trust me." Her voice sounded cheerless, even to her own ears. Ron snorted in disbelief from afar, clearly still untrusting of the frozen man on the ground being referred to as brilliant.

Arthur and Remus exchanged a quick glance. Remus paused for a moment, deeply contemplating his next question before asking, "And Kingsley... did you happen to see him?"   
  
_Kingsley._ Hermione had not forgotten the state in which she had found their dear friend. Her eyes dropped to the floor as tears began to prickle her eyelashes. She wordlessly shook her head. The group all stood silently as no one was quite sure what to say.

Despite her exhaustion, Hermione was confused, more so than she had been in her entire life, which was causing her frustrations to mount considerably. How had they opened their prison doors and no one else's? What did they need Draco for? Hermione, as inquisitive as she was, had no logical explanations. "I need to know what happened. And it cannot wait."

Remus nodded in agreement. "Fair enough. Let's go back to the new headquarters and sort this-"

This time, Ron was the one to cut him off, "And what about Malfoy? He could be dangerous. We can't just bring him there." A few members of the Order nodded their heads in agreement.

"Please," Hermione pleaded, "you have to understand what he sacrificed for me. I refuse to leave him behind. It'd be a death sentence. Anyway, why leave him here when you were the ones who opened his prison? Why not just leave him in the Labyrinth?" Hermione huffed, exasperated.

Hermione noticed the shared glances of the others in the room. There was something they were not admitting. Remus finally spoke, "We will keep Draco in one of the rooms at our new location until we are certain he will not try to harm anyone."

"New location?" Hermione questioned.

"This place is no longer safe. I'd be surprised if it weren't being monitored as we speak. We will each make our way out of here - you'll see what I mean when we arrive. You and Draco will each be taken by another member of the Order. "

And with that, it was decided. Remus held onto Draco's limp body, and with a large "pop", they disappeared from the hall. One by one, the members all disappeared. Harry gave a small nod towards Ron as he made his way over to Hermione. Hermione tightly gripped Harry's arm, and then she felt the familiar sensation of being dragged along.

* * *

When they dropped to the ground, Hermione stared out at a rather large cottage. It was tucked back into the trees. There were no other discernible markers to indicate where they were. No other houses, no other anything really, was visible to her. She wondered how so many people could fit inside. Despite it being long, it did not look nearly large enough to house the Weasley family, let alone everyone else. The cottage was one only one story after all. As she approached, she noticed there were signs that Mrs. Weasley had been around. The fall flowers were in bloom, adding nice splashes of color to the front entry. Just as Harry was about to turn the doorknob, it burst open and a flurry of activity exited the cottage.

"We have been absolutely sick with worry!" Hermione saw a flash of Mrs. Weasley's signature red hair before she was enveloped in a deep hug. "My dear girl look how thin you have gotten! I have supper warming on the stove, you poor, poor thing!" She sobbed out, her tears leaking onto Hermione's shirt. Hermione felt warm in Mrs. Weasley's embrace, comforted by the woman she considered her second mother. For the first time in months, she felt absolutely safe. It was a foreign, yet entirely welcome feeling. Harry put his hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Let's get her inside Mrs. Weasley, I'm sure she's had a long day."

"Of course dear. How we have missed you," Mrs. Weasley lightly pressed her hand on Hermione's cheek, taking a moment to thoroughly inspect her face. "We need to get you fixed up first. I have a few potions that should help do the trick." Hermione, though overwhelmed by seeing everyone, was grateful for the mention of potions. Her body was in an enormous amount of pain, radiating out from places she did not know could feel so terrible. She feared that as soon as her adrenaline ran out she would collapse on the spot. She followed Mrs. Weasley through the doorway, thankful for Harry's supportive hand on her shoulder.

The cottage itself was slightly worn, though still cozy. Upon her inspection, she realized that the inside had been enchanted. A large staircase ascended through the middle of the house, stopping at each of the five floors tucked away. The charm of the Burrow was evident in this new location, with all sorts of enchanted gadgets everywhere the eye could see.

As Hermione was walking she was stopped multiple times by members of the Order for hugs. Each person she met expressed how deeply she had been missed, and how they had spent every moment worrying about her safety. Hermione had dreamed for months about this moment, but now that it was here, she was entirely unprepared. She did not know how to respond to their kindness. She knew that every person truly meant their words, but she could not yet muster the proper emotional response. She herself had barely had time to process her entire ordeal.

"Mrs. Weasley, where is Draco? I believe he needs to be looked after as well," Hermione said while sitting in the kitchen receiving medical attention. She thought about his frame which was much too thin. Harry and Ron were both sitting at a table nearby, intently focused on every injury she had. The more bruises that were exposed, the angrier the pair became. Hermione's words did little to calm their rage, and so after a few attempts, she simply gave up, too exhausted to waste her breath on a lost cause.

"They brought him into one of the rooms upstairs. Not to worry dear, when he is awake I will send up medicine and food to him as well. You both are nothing more than skin and bones," She shook her head, clearly besieged with motherly worry. Hermione trusted her word but thought that she would check up on him herself after she was through speaking with the Order.

"Here, this should help!" Mrs. Weasley confidently stated. "Now, get some supper. You are not allowed into the meeting until you eat." Hermione rolled her eyes. Her stomach was the last of her concerns, but she entertained Mrs. Weasley by eating a few bites. Her stomach was not used to such a rich, healthy meal, and it revolted. She managed but a few spoonfuls before her stomach gurgled in protest.

"Um. Mrs. Weasley, this is truly delicious, but I think this is all I can manage for tonight," Hermione hesitantly said, waiting for the impending speech about her skinny body. But instead, Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Alright then, but you have to promise to eat more at breakfast." She conceded. Hermione nodded happily in response, giving the woman a hug before hurrying into the common area.   
  
Remus and Arthur were talking in the corner by the fireplace. As she walked further into the room, she saw Ginny, George, Neville, and Luna laughing lightly at a table off in the corner. Ginny instantly stood up and ran to Hermione for a hug. Though it reignited a pain deep in Hermione's ribs, she was thankful to have the support of her closest friends again. She looked around the room for more people but found that there were none. _Where are the others?_ Hermione anxiously thought. Tonks? Fred?

"Is... is this everyone?" Hermione questioned Ginny quietly. A sadness washed over Ginny's eyes. Hermione knew the answer, though, she wished she had never asked. Her. worst fears were realized at that moment. While imprisoned, Hermione had been no help to the people she loved. Perhaps she had even put some in danger. It certainly seemed that Kingsley had given his life to rescue her. Ginny, noticing the guilt written on Hermione's face pulled her in for another hug. Aware that Hermione had finally entered the room, Remus called everyone to attention. Hermione took a seat in-between Harry and Ron at another table in the room.

Hermione was the first to speak. "So, I'd like to thank all of you. Without... Without your help, I would still be in there," Hermione shivered, but continued. " I have many questions that I'd like to ask before you ask about the Labyrinth, if that is alright." Everyone nodded in agreement at her request.

"So, first, I'd like to know how you found us at 12 Grimmauld Place so quickly. I was expecting to have to conduct a search for you all." Hermione, still slightly confused by the whole situation barely knew where to start. Easy questions were probably best, she thought.

"We have an insider amongst the Death Eaters who immediately alerted us to your escape from the prison," Remus began. "Voldemort, we hear, was quite displeased with the whole thing. But anyway, as soon as we got word of your escape, we logically concluded that the old headquarters would be your first stop," Remus stated, clearly pleased that he was right in his assumption. Hermione nodded in understanding.

"Was this the insider who helped to open our prison doors?" Hermione questioned.

"Well... not exactly." Remus looked guilty for a moment. "Months before the Battle of Hogwarts we were approached by Narcissa Malfoy." Hermione's eyes snapped to focus on Remus. Arthur was staring down quietly at the table, avoiding her inquisitive gaze. "She had asked for help in escaping Voldemort, but... well there were those of us who felt uneasy about the whole thing. We asked her to produce concrete plans that Voldemort had made, to prove her that she was serious about leaving his side. As you well know, the Malfoy's were always a fixture in pureblood ideology, and it was necessary to know with certainty that she was not a spy," Remus defended. 

"She came to you for help?" Hermione asked, stunned by the unfolding of events. How could they turn her away? While the logical, rational side of Hermione knew they had to be careful, the emotional, angry side was dumbfounded by the lack of decency. A woman was looking for an escape and they had likely killed her in their denial of that request.

Remus released a heavy breath as he nodded, uncomfortable with the question. "She produced detailed information regarding the Labyrinth. Of course, by the time we received all the necessary information, you had already been captured. Shortly thereafter, Voldemort imprisoned Draco. Narcissa came to us with a plan to release you, as long as Draco's cell door was also opened. We obliged, but unfortunately, she was killed a week before the plan was carried out. We honored her final wishes." Remus looked at Hermione with sincerity in his eyes. Hermione, though angry, understood why they had made the decisions they did. She was also at least pacified to know that they had honored her by helping Draco.

"But at the moment we have a problem, Draco has absolutely no memory of us helping him. He's an unloyal bastard who could turn on us, and now he knows our location," Ron irritably stated. Again, there were a few nods of agreement.

"Yes that's true," Harry began, "But we cannot let him go now that he knows our location, unless we wipe the rest of his memory, perhaps."

"Maybe without a personality, he'd be tolerable," George snickered, bumping his shoulder against Neville who also nodded his head.

This was all too much for Hermione to hear. They were judging the man who had saved her life countless times in the last few days. Hermione's anger bubbled up in her veins as she heard their words, heating her body with fire. She abruptly stood, her chair loudly scraping across the wooden floors before tipping over.

"Will you all just shut up!" Hermione demanded. Her breathing was harsh, as was her voice. The members of the order stared at her, stunned into silence at her uncharacteristically bold behavior.

"There will be no more discussion regarding whether Draco is a liability or not. It does not matter. His mother gave her life to spy for the Order. Hell, he gave up his memories _for me_ and I will not allow you to throw him to the streets to die. I cannot let us throw our honor away because of fear. I will personally monitor him and his behavior. Regardless, he won't make it far without a wand." Hermione's voice had calmed slightly during her rant, and some of her frustration managed to dissipate from her tone. "In the meantime, I will work on a way to restore his memories. His knowledge of the Death Eaters and Voldemort's plans could be useful."

"You're right," Arthur said warily, "But that does not mean we should not be careful. I say we speak with him tomorrow and try to get him to understand what has happened." Hermione agreed.

"If he knows how much danger he is in, how Voldemort will kill him, he won't be leaving anytime soon." Hermione agreed, thinking back to Draco's words about holding his self-preservation above all else. "In the meantime, I will think back to anything I saw that could be useful. Unfortunately, I spent nearly all of my time locked in a cell," Hermione looked down so as not to see the reaction of her friends, "And then when we were out, we spent most of our time hiding or running through the Labyrinth. I can tell you this though, the map that you sent Kingsley with was accurate in terms of how each level was laid out. I'm assuming that was drawn by Narcissa?"

"Yes," Remus replied. "I have many more questions, but they can wait until tomorrow. Are you okay with that Hermione?" Remus sounded very much like the concerned professor she remembered from Hogwarts, always the fatherly type. "You look like you could use some rest."

"That is fine with me, I could use a shower and some sleep, but I have one more question. Why didn't Voldemort fall? All the Horcruxes were destroyed. Harry... Harry was almost killed." Hermione shook her head. She had thought for months about this question and could come up with no real answers.

"We don't know, " Remus answered. "We believe there is either _another_ Horcrux that was made, or there is something else to the ritual that we have yet to discover. Without Severus, we do not know any of Dumbledore's knowledge," Remus finished, looking as frustrated as Hermione felt. "I think we can finish this discussion tomorrow. You do look quite haggard."   
  
And with that, the meeting was concluded. 

Hermione felt better knowing that she had spoken on Draco's behalf. She was less confused about everything in general, which calmed her nerves slightly. If there was one thing she hated, it was not understanding things. She knew she still had much to learn about what had happened during her time in the Labyrinth, but as Ginny led her to her room and then the shower, she decided that it could wait for a little while longer.

As Hermione stepped into the scalding hot water, she instantly felt human again. Her muscles relaxed under the cascading water, and the steam surrounded her senses. She watched as a mixture of dirt and blood turned the water a rusty color before it disappeared down the drain. It was cathartic and depressing all at once, and Hermione's head spun with thoughts despite her wish for peace.

She supposed that some of her anger at the Order tonight was a bit unfounded. They remembered Draco as the one who had sat by as she was tortured in his mansion, the cruel boy who had done nothing but relentlessly torment them in school. Maybe in the morning, she would apologize for being so abrupt. Maybe.

The truth was, she was unsure of how to deal with everything. Draco was the only person who had any idea of what it was like to be in the Labyrinth, the only one who would be able to understand what she was going through, but he had no memory of their time together. He had no memories to guide him on how to act, no knowledge of the experiences that had changed him over the years. But, she did. She thought back to his soft lips covering her own, of the electric warmth that filled her as his body pressed against her own. While she knew it was likely nothing more than a final act of desperation from Draco, Hermione could not help but remember the feelings it awoke in her; feelings that were now nothing more than a memory that only she held.

Hermione stood as the hot water ran over her bruised and aching body, feeling more alone than she ever had. When she finished her shower, Hermione went back to her room to change, and then quickly walked into the hallway again. She had one more thing she wanted to do before she went to bed.

She walked to the door next to hers and lightly knocked. Because she and Draco's rooms shared a wall, she had been able to hear his footsteps and knew he was awake. "Draco, it's Hermione. May I come in?" She waited for a few moments, but no answer ever came. Perhaps, Hermione thought, she just needed to give him time. She could not imagine the hurt that he was feeling, the confusion, the sense of loss. Sullenly, she began to walk back to her room, but footsteps from behind her alerted her to the presence of others.  
  
Ron and Harry were standing across the hallway, at the entrance of their room.

"Hermione, talk with us, we want to hear about what happened. We missed you," Ron said, reaching lightly for her hand. Hermione took a step back. The trio awkwardly stared at each other for a moment before Hermione broke the silence.

"I... I think I am going to just turn in for the night if you don't mind," Hermione whispered. Her voice sounded broken and exhausted, foreign to even her own ears. She was too weary to offer even a simple excuse.

Ron's face fell into a deep frown, disappointment evident on his features, while Harry's forehead creased with worry. Despite how much she had missed her loved ones, she could not face them tonight. She was too exhausted, too sad, too lost in her own mind. Without another glance backward, Hermione trudged into her room and closed the door behind her.

As she lay in bed she was certain she could hear the strangled cries of the Labyrinth prisoners ringing out through the darkness. And, as exhausted as she was, she did not drift into the peaceful slumber she had dreamt about for months during her captivity. Instead, she lay awake in bed as the familiar feeling of hopelessness strangled her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12 will be posted at the end of the week! I am so excited to FINALLY share it. In the meantime, please check out The Alliance - my other WIP. I
> 
> To get updates on my writing see my Tumblr - AMJohnson0518 - for snippets, mood boards, aesthetics, and more!


	9. Chapter 9

Draco's first night in the cottage was absolutely restless. The room lacked all the comforts of the Manor; the bed was hard, and the linens were made of cheap, itchy fabric. Besides that, the space was assuredly small, comprised of nothing more than a bed and a tiny bathroom attached off to the far side. At the Manor, his closet alone was at least double the size of both the room and bathroom combined. The wooden floors creaked in protest as he paced back and forth, mumbling angrily under his breath. Although he was exhausted beyond what he ever thought imaginable, his mind would not quiet. His rage kept hot adrenaline coursing through his heart.

_Had he really been a prisoner of the Labyrinth, as Granger said?_

"Impossible..." Draco muttered. There was no way his mother and father would allow such a thing; their only heir locked away like some animal with the rest of the weak, pathetic populace. But the aches in his joints and the general unwell state of his body said otherwise. It was too much for Draco to imagine, particularly in his current condition.

As he stormed across the floor, his footsteps occasionally crunched when he stepped over the shattered glass vials Molly Weasley and Professor Lupin had brought to him before locking him in the room. Now, there was a small part of him that regretted not trusting the potions, as his ribs sharply objected to any movement he made with resounding pain. There were multiple plates of food and bread on his nightstand sitting untouched. Mrs. Weasley had encouraged him to eat and seemed overly concerned about his weight, a detail he found odd. For a prisoner, they had decided to feed him well. Too well, in Draco's opinion, and it served only to make him more suspicious of his captors. _It must be poisoned_ , Draco had thought after inspecting the meal.

He sat on the edge of the lumpy bed and tried as hard as he could to think of anything at all from his past, but his mind was a dark void. Draco's last clear memory was of Voldemort tasking him to kill Dumbledore, an impossible mission meant to kill him, he was certain. He still felt slightly ill about it. He longed to hold immense power, to be respected, but even he knew he was no murderer. He didn't relish in death like his Aunt, who lusted for blood.

Perhaps he had just hit his head and lost some of his memory, though, it made much more logical sense that Hermione had attempted to obliviate him. He knew he would need to speak with Granger at some point, if only to get a straight answer as to why he was currently here. After taking a moment to consider the prospect of speaking with the witch, Draco decided he'd much rather gouge his eyes out.

Overly exhausted, Draco lowered the rest of his body on the mattress, lifting his legs so he could finally give his body some much-deserved rest. There was no use in pacing about like a loon. Rest would give him the clarity he needed to plot his escape. Draco drifted nearly soundlessly to sleep, fortunately, unable to remember the horrors of the Labyrinth unlike the witch sleeping on the other side of the wall.

* * *

Hermione placed both of her feet off the mattress and onto the cold floor. She had gotten but a few moments of rest from her overworked mind. Her eyelids drooped heavily over her eyes, and her body, though feeling better after Molly's attendance, was still horribly achy. Exhaustion had been her constant companion for months, an annoying partner through all of her trials and tribulations. Now understanding the impossibility that was sleep, Hermione sighed as she came to the realization that her exhaustion might never cease to burden her. There was no stopping the racing thoughts from plaguing her heart and mind. Maybe tonight she would request a sleeping drought, Hermione thought to herself, not bothering to change out of her nightwear as she made for the kitchen.

Rounding the narrow hallway into the kitchen, Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Despite her lack of sleep, her heart was jolted awake by the sight before her. Blaise Zabini, the Slytherin playboy himself was leaning against the counter in mid-conversation with Remus, who was casually sipping tea. Odd.

_This should be a fascinating story,_ Hermione thought before clearing her throat to alert the men of her presence.

"Ah, Hermione, we were just discussing you. There is breakfast warming on the stove if you'd like," Remus was first to respond.

"Granger, " Zabini nodded appraisingly, his own warm expression clashing against her cool regard.

Hermione eyed him distastefully for a moment before turning to Lupin for an explanation.

"Hermione, Blaise is our current informant amongst the Death Eaters. I assure you he is trustworthy. I am hoping a familiar face will help Draco adjust to his current situation."

"I came here as soon as I heard," Blaise began. "How is he? Well... apart from the memory thing."

Hermione registered the obvious concern in Blaise's voice and warmed a touch. "Draco went through hell, but he doesn't realize it. I haven't the slightest idea of where to even begin to work on his memory. It's... Well anyway, hopefully, you can pacify him enough so that I may start working with him." Though she knew Blaise was here to help, she still did not entirely trust the man, especially not to understand her precious moments with Draco. She quickly decided she would only give him the information he absolutely needed to calm Draco. She felt more comfortable handling the rest herself.

"I'll try my best," Blaise shrugged, "but Draco is stubborn."

"That's an understatement," Hermione rolled her eyes lightly, but a small smirk rested upon her lips as she remembered some of Draco's sharp rebuts to her plans in the Labyrinth.

Blaise regarded the woman shrewdly, and though Hermione had very few interactions with him before, she was certain he had picked up on the slight blush on her cheeks as her mind flashed briefly with Draco's face.

"Is there anything else you can tell me that will help before I go upstairs?" Blaise questioned, still carefully considering Hermione. Both the Slytherin and the Gryffindor were in a silent battle of wits; one that could only be won through careful analysis of their opponent. She was almost certain he asked the question not to get information, but to see her reaction. 

Hermione carefully composed herself, hoping to give little away about her relationship with Draco. "He has no memories of the Labyrinth or his father's betrayal. He also has no knowledge of Narcissa's death. He had not yet learned of it until a few hours before our escape," Hermione's voice trailed off in a whisper as she remembered the absolute heartache Draco suffered when he saw his mother's gravestone. "As for how far back his memory loss goes, he knows about the existence of the Labyrinth, and that he is a Death Eater, but that's all I know." Sensing Blaise's questions, she continued for good measure, "He seemed exactly like the purebred asshole from school, honestly."   
  
Blaise was still staring at Hermione intently. "And your relationship with Draco, why do you care so much about him? Get caught up in a bit of Slytherin charm?" Blaise questioned, intrigued by the answers of this particular line of questioning.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the inquisitive man. "He gave his memories to save me. Draco's last request was that I not give up on him, and I will honor that until I die."

Blaise, ever charismatic, shook his head slightly and muttered, "Definitely a Gryffindor. Perhaps he was always worth saving and you lot never gave him a proper chance," Blaise countered.

"This is... this is different. The Labyrinth changed him." Hermione could not even begin to explain the complexities she had learned of Draco. He himself had warned her that he was not a good man growing up. She agreed that he always had the inner strength to find the right path. And yet, how could she expect a man who had learned, not from his parents, but from his own experiences of which he now had no memory of, to let go of his prejudices?  
  
Blaise gracefully pushed himself off the counter and started for the stairs."I should make this quick, my absence will be noticed if I'm not back soon. Remus, Granger," Blaise nodded. And with that, Blaise walked towards the hall. Hermione heard his feet tread quickly up the stairs.

As soon as Hermione felt he was far enough away, she sat down at the table across from Remus. During her sleepless night, Hermione had managed to come up with nothing short of a hundred questions, at the very least. She was at a loss for where to begin, but, the quiet calm that Remus exuded reassured her.

"Do you think it's possible to truly be wiped of memories?" Hermione blurted out. Though she realized that, logically, there were many more pressing questions to ask, she started with the first thing on her mind. Remus considered her carefully before standing and slowly moving around the kitchen. His movements were much less frenzied than Molly's, more deliberate. His wand was lying untouched on the kitchen table.

"Let me make you a cup of tea," Remus muttered as he chose a tall mug out of the cupboard."I find that sometimes the muggle way of preparing tea is more cathartic actually. And, it produces a far better cup, don't you agree?"   
  
Hermione nodded, confused by his line of thought. A few minutes later, however, he placed a steaming cup in front of her, and she was thankful for the warmth it brought her.

"Hermione, you are brilliant, but memories are incredibly powerful, complex things, particularly when mixed with magic. I say this because I care, but, it may very well be impossible to retrieve his memories," Remus concluded. " You've had a traumatic few months, you need to give yourself a break. I don't want you driving yourself mad over this."

"You don't understand, Remus. I have to try. I promised I would," Hermione's notorious determination was evident to Remus.

"Tell me again, how his memories were taken," Remus asked, knowing he would be unable to stop the brilliant witch once she had set her mind toward a goal. Hermione divulged the details. She found it easier to leave behind the emotional aspects of the memory, and simply focus on the facts. Unlike Harry or Ron, Remus held no expectations of anything beyond this, and she was grateful for that.

After she concluded, Remus sat quietly for several moments, lost in the gears of his brain.

"Your first order of business is to find out what sort of magic is capable of wiping memories, besides the more obvious memory charms. This sounds like the work of a dark artifact to me," Remus shared. Hermione eagerly soaked in all the new information he was giving her. She thought she had seen a library next to the living room last night. That would be her next stop. But first, she had a few more questions.

"So, I have tons of questions, I just... I don't really know where to start." Hermione confessed sheepishly.

Remus chuckled. "That I cannot help you with. Start wherever you want."

"Alright," Hermione said after a moment. "How did you open our cell doors, and how did Kingsley manage to get into the Labyrinth? I thought it was supposed to be impenetrable."

Remus frowned. "An excellent place to start, but a difficult one." He let out a deep sigh. Hermione could see the pain in his face as he thought of his dear departed friend. Remus had lost so much during this war, perhaps more than anyone else in the Order. Deeply etched into his aging face were the hardships of his life, each immeasurable sorrow the kind-hearted man felt. "First off, you must know that the Labyrinth is, for the most part, impermeable. Only those who already have access can be granted passage. From what we know the Dark Lord controls which wands can and cannot have access to the Labyrinth."

"Like a wand registry?" Hermione questioned.

"Precisely. Only his most trusted Death Eater's are allowed in. Anyway, when Narcissa came to us, she had secretly made an unregistered portkey, of which Blaise, during one of his sweeps of the prison, activated."

Hermione thought for a moment. The Dark Lord, though untrusting, was arrogant, and he must have truly believed no Death Eater would ever dare cross him without his knowledge. The Dark Lord's greatest weaknesses, that of human nature, of ego and arrogance, permeated his Labyrinth as well. "And the cell doors?"

"As for opening the cell doors, there are only a number of wands that can unlock and lock the doors, a permission granted to Death Eaters in charge of interrogations and torture. Narcissa managed to steal the wand of Amycus Carrow. The man was apparently so afraid of Voldemort's wrath, of his own death, that he never reported his wand missing. Narcissa brought us the wand and gave us the charms to unlock the cells. Blaise, who was on patrol the night of your escape, cast the spell to open the cell doors just as guard shifts were changing, giving you both a few moments head start."

Hermione paused, stunned into silence. Truly, had it not been for Narcissa and Blaise, two people she had very rarely thought about before in her life, she would still be trapped in that living hell.

"Why is he doing this, I mean, Blaise? Why is he helping?" Hermione thought. Slytherin's were notorious for their cunning nature, but also, for their self-ambition.

"You'll have to ask him that yourself," Remus cryptically said. Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly. It just made no sense, but as Hermione opened her mouth to ask another question, Molly Weasley and Ginny burst into the kitchen.

"Ah you're awake... and I see that you haven't eaten yet!" Mrs. Weasley harrumphed, quickly making her way through the room to start another round of breakfast on the stove. "How did you sleep, dear?" She questioned, pausing from her cooking to survey Hermione.

Hermione twitched under her inquisitive gaze. "I slept better than I have in months," she answered honestly, though, she knew that did not mean much.

"Perhaps some breakfast will help. You're as thin as a broomstick!" Molly replied. In her own motherly way, she realized Hermione was not yet herself but did not want to press her any more than necessary. She placed a piece of toast and some eggs in front of Hermione.   
  
Hermione's stomach, though not feeling normal yet, grumbled at the delicious smelling food. Knowing she had tons of research to begin now that she had spoken with Remus, Hermione quickly tucked into her food. Mrs. Weasley smiled triumphantly, not knowing of Hermione's true motivations behind eating at such a rapid pace.

"Hermione! Would you like a tour of the cottage, I know you were tired last night," Ginny offered as she watched Hermione scarf down a piece of toast in a way she had only seen Ron accomplish.

"I really must be off to the library," Hermione said in-between bites of food. Her stomach was feeling much better, and the food was giving her welcome energy that she would need to get through her day of research.   
  
But Ginny frowned at her friend's words. Though it was not unusual for Hermione to lock herself in the library, Ginny was confused as to why Hermione felt the need to rush so soon after returning.   
  
Hermione noticed the frown on the red-headed girl's face and gave a small smile. "I'd love a tour later," she said as she stood up, hoping it would placate Ginny for now.

"Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione called over her shoulder and she rushed from the cozy kitchen, leaving the other wizards bewildered by her actions.   
  
But, there was no time to waste, and Hermione felt she had too many topics to catch up on. The library awaited.

* * *

A soft knocking on the door awoke Draco, but, before he could tell whoever it was to sod off, an unexpected guest barged into his room.

Draco's eyes widened a fraction in response before his usual cool facade drifted into place. Of all the people who could have barged into his room, it had to be this one, he rolled his eyes.

"Took you long enough," Draco sneered condescendingly, sitting up from his mattress. "Your rescue should have been here hours ago. Don't tell me this lot has gotten you tripped up."

Blaise barked out a laugh in response.

"Seems the memory wipe did nothing for your arrogance," The Italian jested.

At this point, Draco was eyeing him with nothing but suspicion; Blaise was far too calm. Something was not right. During his time at Hogwarts Blaise had been his only true friend. Blaise, unlike the other Slytherin's, was unafraid of him. In Draco's eyes, it had earned the Italian boy respect. While the others would follow Draco blindly - which, he had to admit, he enjoyed immensely- Blaise had no qualms about challenging him, a trait that Draco had rarely ever faced.

"Well... let's get on with it," Draco said, exasperated.

"Hell of a greeting for an old friend," Blaise sarcastically quipped, flashing his signature bright smile. "Guess I wasn't really expecting much..." Blaise muttered while closing the door behind him. Draco made no move to welcome the other man in. How the fuck did Blaise know where he was? And why weren't they leaving?

"How did you find me?" Draco hesitantly questioned, at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

"The Order called me because your stubborn ass isn't cooperating so I have to clean up your mess, as per usual." Blaise casually leaned against the door and looked Draco up and down, "You look like shit, mate. Actually," Blaise's nose crinkled, "you smell like shit too."

_The Order?_ Draco rubbed his temples, trying to keep his temper under control. "Blaise tell me what the fuck is going on, _now._ "

"Well, simply put, your worm of a father put you in the Labyrinth to save his own arse. You and Granger managed to escape. Mate, I hate to tell you this but it seems you went a bit Gryffindor in there," Blaise laughed as he thought back to Hermione's wistful expression as she spoke of Draco. Draco shot him a cruel, icy glare, causing Blaise to hold his hands up in defeat. "I'm just telling it how it is. Anyway...You saved the princess- or she saved you- but no matter. You escaped, sans memory, and now you're on the Death Eater's most wanted list, right after Potter of course. Congratulations."

Draco shook his head slightly. First Granger, now Zabini. "You're absolutely fucking mad. This whole thing is insane," Draco shouted.

"Oh, you haven't even heard the best part yet. That girl is convinced she can still save you," Blaise chuckled, thinking back to Hermione's determined expression as she spoke of her promise. "Always the heartbreaker."

Draco's eyes narrowed coolly. "I did nothing of the sort with that... that _mudblood_."

"Says the man with no memory, and... weren't you the one who never quite cared about blood status?" Blaise challenged him, rolling his eyes, but, as he read Draco's expression, his smile turned to a cringe.   
  
Draco's face was set in deep concentration, trying to make sense of everything. Frustration was evident, but there was also something else Blaise recognized. It was the same determined look Hermione had, except Blaise knew that the plan Draco was setting his mind to, was not a good one.  
  
"Draco, I know you trust no one right now, and I don't necessarily blame you, but don't be a git. You have no place amongst the Death Eaters anymore. The Draco I know would never be such a fool to escape safety for certain death."   
  
Draco considered his words. Never before had Draco felt so hopelessly frustrated. To stay was to be surrounded by his enemies, but to leave meant dying.

"So you're telling me that you believe Granger?" Draco sounded absolutely flabbergasted at the idea. "And you... wait. My mum, where is she?"

"Draco," Zabini's normally jesting tone took on a harrowing seriousness, and his perfect posture faltered. "Mate, your mom wasn't who you thought she was. Listen, promise me you'll hear me out before you start spouting nonsense again?"

Draco, knowing he had little other choice, simply nodded. Blaise recounted to Draco the story of his lost memories, at least, what he knew of them. Beginning where Draco's memories staved off, Blaise recounted Draco's mission to kill Dumbledore, and his failure to actually murder the Headmaster. He spoke of how Snape saved him in the aftermath from the Dark Lord's wrath, of how his mother, knowing Draco was still not safe, planned an escape for them. When Blaise recounted the betrayal of Lucius, Draco sat wide-eyed, staring at Blaise as though he had grown a third arm.

And when the end grew near, when Blaise had to finally speak of Draco's capture, of his mother's death, Draco's face became a picture of ferocity.

"You're lying," Draco snarled, "I saw her just a few days ago."   
  
Blaise sadly shook his head. "I'm- I'm sorry. I don't know what you would like me to say."

At that moment the frustration that had been mounting through the night became too much of a burden. Insanity is a peculiar thing; it grows unnoticed, lurking in the deepest parts of the mind until it finds an opening to overtake the soul. Once manifested, it places the world out of reach, coloring all situations in the most horrible of hues. Draco's insanity, the one that had tangled like a vine around his skull, overtook him at that moment, breaking his reality. Draco took a menacing step towards Blaise, reaching for his collar.

"You fucking liar! I want you to tell me she is alive!" Draco coldly spat out as he held Blaise pinned to the door, his hand tight around his friend's neck. "I want you to tell me this isn't real. I want you to tell me the truth. You're playing some monumentally fucked up joke."

"The Dark Lord wants you dead. He killed your mother," Blaise bluntly stated, his patience with his friend was wearing thin, and his own aggravation was evident in his tone. "I think that memory charm fucked up more than just your memory, mate," Blaise chuckled humorlessly.

Draco did not loosen his grip on the other man. His breathing was coming out in erratic spurts as he tried to comprehend his situation.

"Whether you want to hear it or not, _I am not lying to you_ , you stupid git." Blaise forcefully pushed Draco away.

"And Granger? You really believe that I gave up my memory for _her_?" Draco snorted in disbelief.

Blaise shrugged, "I admit it doesn't sound like you, but it's been months Draco. I don't know what happened in the Labyrinth. But I do know you and Granger are being hunted." His final words were a thinly veiled warning that Draco read clearly; He was not to leave the cottage, or he would likely be killed.   
  
Draco, being one for self-preservation, was torn. He was in a house of wizards and witches he hated, people he did not trust. But to leave the safety they provided was unwise.

Blaise exhaled, still reading the absolute disbelief on his friend's face. Blaise knew he had failed to get through to his normally level-headed, rational friend. The memory charm had done more damage than Blaise had anticipated. "Listen, mate, I have to go before they realize I've been gone. I'll be back whenever I get another chance. I know you don't believe me, but just listen to what I've said. Don't do anything entirely stupid. I'm sorry, Draco, for everything."

And with that Blaise disappeared from the room, leaving Draco alone to his exhausted, broken mind. From up in his tiny bedroom, Draco had no idea of the Gryffindor's presence just a few floors below, as he was calculating his own escape. Without a wand, it would be nearly impossible, he concluded. His conversation with Blaise gave him much to think about. _Was the man in front of him even real?_ _Perhaps it was another trick of the Order_ , Draco thought, finding it unlikely that Blaise would turn on the Dark Lord.  
  
There was one thing Blaise was absolutely correct about, though, he really did need to shower.

* * *

Hermione wasted no time getting to work. Doing what she knew best, Hermione settled into the worn leather couch by the fire, quickly tucking into one of the many books she had gathered. A towering stack of tomes, books, and parchment rested on the end table beside her. Hermione paused briefly and smiled.   
  
_This is home,_ she thought happily _._ _There has got to be an answer here somewhere_ , Hermione consideration, as she carefully flipped through the pages. She was in for a long day of work, but she was determined as ever. And so she began her entirely impossible quest to keep her promise to Draco.

The following week went by much the same as her first day at the cottage. She only left her books to eat and shower, ignoring nearly all other responsibilities. Her friends tried endlessly to speak with her, but she was always distracted, muttering to herself before quickly running back into the library, oblivious to the worried stares of her loved ones. Her brain worked tirelessly, never halting in its production of thoughts and theories. Though drained, Hermione was urged on every night by the pacing footsteps of Draco she heard through her wall and the occasional, frustrated cry that echoed from his room.

Draco's week went by much slower than Hermione's, but it consisted of just as much thought. For the week following his conversation with Blaise, he thought about every word that was exchanged; His father's betrayal, his mother's death, the loss of his memory, it was far too much to handle. It was remarkably easier to ignore reality than accept his situation, and thus, Draco's disbelief in his life manifested. There was just no way any of this could be true. Draco fell quickly into a tired rhythm in which he awoke after having barely slept, and ate the food Mrs. Weasely practically forced down his throat, before again methodically plotting his escape.

There were a few times Professor Lupin or Molly Weasley had attempted to speak with him, but he largely ignored their efforts. Occasionally, he felt the need to put them in their place, reminding them of his powerful status and family name.   
  
Professor Lupin was gravely worried about Draco's mental state, and the effect his lost memory was having on his psyche. Normally, when a person was obliviated, they remembered nothing at all, and they could be molded however was necessary. Partial memory charms were dangerous, far more complex to maneuver and it appeared to be having a severe effect on Draco's fragile mind.

By the second week, Hermione sat at the kitchen table, irritated as ever.

She was no closer to finding any way of bringing back Draco's memories, especially without the necessary information regarding how exactly his memory was affected. The magic was likely dark, embedded within the orb that Draco had touched. She could find no information in the available library on this type of dark artifact. She let out a soft groan. This was hopeless.

Harry stood quietly in the kitchen doorway, observing his brilliant friend. He had seen her become obsessed with finding out the answer to a problem, though, never to this extent. She looked exhausted, worn down to the bone. Truthfully, Harry did not quite know how to go about talking with her. The woman sitting at the table was very different from the woman he knew. The past weeks, she had said but a few words to her friends at dinner and shut herself in her room at night. The Hermione he had known trusted them with her life; she was never one to keep secrets of this nature. She was the light of the group, the bringer of hope and reason, but now... Harry shook his head in dejection.   
  
He gathered his courage and cleared his throat.

Hermione's eyes shot up to meet his, and he gave a small wave.

"Can I sit with you?"

"Of course," Hermione said quizzingly. "You never have to ask, you know."

Harry shrugged. "You've been wanting space lately, and I don't want to be a bother."

"Harry," Hermione began, cautiously choosing her words. "It's just hard to deal with all of this. This feels comfortable, and normal to me," Hermione honestly stated.

Harry nodded, knowing nothing else needed to be said. When his best friend was ready to talk about her experience, she knew he would always be here. Their relationship was based on more than words. "So, what are you working on?" Harry asked, trying to lighten Hermione's mood again.

Hermione, realizing she had not really spoken to Harry about everything she had learned began to explain what she was looking for, from a potential new Horcrux to the artifact that was responsible for Draco's memory loss.

"What about the pensive? We managed to bring it back here after the battle," Harry stated after listening to Hermione's rant about her studies. "I mean, I know it's not his memories, but it could be a start right?" Harry unconfidently finished.   
  
Hermione let out an uncharacteristic yelp of delight.

"We... we have the pensive here? Where?" Hermione spluttered out in excitement. "Harry, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I dunno," Harry sheepishly said, "Really I didn't know much about the situation, but there also has been no breaking you out of your studies. It's in the office on the fifth floor, in the cabinet."   
  
"Merlin I'm so _stupid_ sometimes," Hermione chuckled for a moment before frowning. A partial solution to getting Draco to listen to them had been in front of her the whole time, if only she had spoken with her friends. "Harry, I'm- I'm sorry I've been distant. I just have a lot that I need to work through right now." She stared at the book in front of her. "This is easier, looking through books and researching. It's home. I just don't quite know how to talk about or even process what has happened."

Harry nudged his shoulder against Hermione's. "There is never any need to apologize Hermione. You're my sister. I understand completely," He reassured her. She gave him a quick hug in response to his kind words.

One day, when all of this was over, she knew she owed Harry an explanation. He deserved as much. But now was not the time, nor the place. She finally had the information she needed to speak with Draco without him turning her away or ignoring her. He was a man of facts, his self-preservation held above all else. Without anything to bargain with, Hermione had avoided speaking with him. But now that she could help him understand all that had happened, she did not want to waste any more time in seeing him.

"Um... Harry I know I've been doing this a lot to you lately, but I've got to go. Thank you!" She called back as she sprinted from the kitchen, up the stairs.

* * *

Draco's first reaction to the soft knock on his door was to roll his eyes. How often did Mrs. Weasley expect him to eat? It was a wonder to him as to how her boys all managed to stay so lanky.

"You may enter," Draco drowsily called out, but, to his shock, the door swung open to reveal none other than Hermione Granger. He had not yet seen her since their last exchange when she had used an unforgivable curse to get him to bend to her whim. His blood began boiling. Despite how frail she looked, and she really was quite emaciated, Draco stood. There was no trust amongst old enemies.

"Draco," Hermione approached him tentatively like she would a dangerous animal. She could see there was something unwell radiating in his eyes. Despite the recovery of some of his weight and muscle tone, his eyes told of a far worse fate. There was a madness in his silver orbs that was striking. He stared her down as she moved, a predator stalking every movement of its prey.   
  
Hermione persisted, " Please, I...I want to show you something, but... I need you to trust me."

Draco's eyes flashed dangerously and he scoffed at the woman in front of him. "Trust _you_? Why the hell should I trust you, Granger?" He took a step toward her cowering figuring, his anger radiating off him like fire. Hermione recognized those words as she herself had once asked him the same question. "You really want me to believe that I sacrificed my memories for _you_? Why the fuck would I do that? Spare me your pathetic lies. Everyone else may think you are some bloody saint, but you are just a know it all bitch who took everything from me."

His breathing was ragged by the time he was done with his outburst. Without noticing, Draco had backed Hermione into a corner. His chest was heaving in and out, her own fearful breathing tickling his chin. He sneered down at her as she trembled slightly. _Good, let her be afraid of me._

"Please...Don't you want to know what really happened? I can help you," Hermione told him softly. Her eyes were searching his face, looking for something that Draco himself did not know, but as he continued to sneer he knew she would not find whatever she wanted to see.   
  
She let out a soft sigh and took a step forward, forcing him backward with a tiny shove so she could escape the room. "I'm leaving your door unlocked. I trust you Draco. When you want to see your memories, you know where to find me." She dejectedly stated before exiting the living space.

Draco stood in stunned silence before reaching to grab the doorknob. His first inclination was to leave the room, to run far from this place and hide for the rest of his days. But a nagging voice in the back of his skull stopped him. He would never survive without a wand. _Manipulative bitch_. He angrily growled, letting out a deep hum from his chest.

What if Blaise had been right? Was he mistaken?  
  
Because of his anger, he had never once stopped to seriously contemplate the possibility that everyone was telling him the truth. That he wasn't some prisoner of the Order.

Sitting back down on his bed, Draco pondered this possibility for a while. Truly, Draco knew his sole option to find out the truth was to speak with Granger; she was the only person who could admit once and for all if she had obliviated him. If he wanted answers he would have to listen to the one woman he had spent his school years resenting-the manipulative, know it all swot in the room beside his. As he came to this realization, Draco let out a groan of frustration.

* * *

It took Hermione all day to come to the conclusion that it had been stupid of her, really, to not plan a better way to speak with him. She should have known how angry he'd be, particularly after being locked in a room for a week to brew over his rage. What she had been unprepared for was how insanity was beginning to wrap its way around Draco, strangling him from the inside out with its cruel manipulation of reality. She had just been so caught up in her own excitement, that she had not thought of any other plan.

She had finally entered her own room to think further on how to speak with Draco, when she noticed Ron sitting on her bed.

"Hi." Hermione, taken by surprise, did not know what else to say. She had not spoken with Ron as she had with Harry. Before she had been taken prisoner, her relationship with Ron had come to a crossroads. Either they were to remain friends, or they were to become something more. At the time, she would have gladly gone the route of more. But now, given everything that had happened to her, this was just another stress she was not ready to confront. She knew it was unfair to him, but she felt entirely uncertain of what to say to him.

"Hi," He said back rather moodily. Hermione shut the door behind her. "So, you're sneaking into his room now, is that it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Don't be stupid Ron, I just wanted to speak with him. I've made a breakthrough I think-"

"Oh bloody fucking brilliant," Ron muttered angrily. "Congratulations."

"Ron," Hermione sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, I'm just not ready to discuss all of this yet."

"All of what?" Ron questioned "Us? This is too much for you to deal with? Well, I'm sorry, but I've been through a hell of a lot over here too."

Hermione nodded understandingly, "I know, and I'm so sorry. I just have a lot to think about right now, but I promise I will speak with you soon so we can figure everything out," she said sincerely, but Ron rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, my arse," he sarcastically bit.

"Ronald Weasley, I will not fight with you about this. Stop being so immature, please? I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I'm not ready to talk to you about our relationship. What is it you'd like to hear?" Hermione snapped back. She truly did feel bad. Ron was one of her best friends, someone who knew her better than anyone and had stood by through every difficult moment. But she was not going to handle his childish jealousy right now. 

She noticed his face turning redder. "What?" She questioned.

"I want to hear that you've missed me. That you've thought about me and that you're ready to go back to the way things were."

"I have missed you. Terribly, in fact. But everything is so different, Ron. Things aren't the same, and they may never be," Hermione softly whispered. She remembered her interactions with Draco, and he made her feel. His comforting warmth had enveloped her, his touch awakening something deeper within her abdomen. While she knew it could be nothing, Hermione was not ready to let go of the possibility that there could be more with Draco. That their connection had not only been because of their dire situation.

Draco was able to challenge Hermione in a way Ron wasn't. Even if their relationship turned out to be nothing more than friendship, she knew that she could never again be with a man like Ron. Having felt the spark, she knew in life that she needed a person as brilliant as herself to keep her attention.

"It's just...after everything we've done for you, Hermione. I thought you'd be more grateful. You haven't even been helping the Order. I just...I just don't understand you anymore Hermione. You've changed so much," Ron finished, stammering with anger towards the end.

In the room over, Draco attempted to hear through the paper thin walls. Without meaning to, he had become captivated by the argument between the two friends. He pressed his ear closer against her bedroom wall. As their argument became more heated, he did not have to strain to hear what they were saying.

Had Draco been able to see into the next room over, he would have seen Hermione's cheeks turn a scarlet red as her temperature rose in response to Ron's words. Ungrateful?

"All you care about is _him_ ," Ron continued. "What about us? What about your friends? Harry... and me? You don't understand-"

"Of course I've changed you twit! Don't tell me what I understand or not," Hermione venomously spat out. The conclusion of this fight was becoming clearer to Draco with every word spoken. "I worried just as much about your safety as you worried about mine. I'm sorry you felt pain -I truly am- but so did I, except I was alone. I was damned to a living hell that you know nothing about. Draco _saved me_. So, no Ronald, _you_ don't understand. I have to do this," Hermione coldly finished. Draco could almost picture her eyes flashing in anger and Ron's flushed red cheeks. He heard heavy footsteps leaving her room, and a loud bang of the door slamming shut. Across the hall, he heard another door slam.

Draco silently pushed himself away from the wall and paused for only a moment before making his way towards his own bedroom door.

Draco could not remember a time when he ever felt guilty, but thinking back to his own fight with Hermione earlier, he felt the tinge of emotion penetrate his cold heart. Perhaps he would give her the benefit of the doubt, and, most importantly, he needed answers as well. He was tired of waiting, and though he would never admit it, the guilt guided his feet. Draco let out a frustrated sigh before walking out his door. Without knocking, he pushed Hermione's door open and quietly clicked it shut behind him.

"Ron I'm no- Malfoy? What are you doing here?" A startled Hermione whispered, as she quickly stood from her bed. Draco noted that there were papers strewn everywhere; books covered nearly every surface available in her small room. Now that Draco was less focused on his own anger he took a moment to study Hermione. The witch looked nothing short of haggard. The bags under her eyes were just as pronounced as his own. His world of suffering had an apparent guest.

"You look like a bloody mess Granger- studying finally getting to you?" Draco kept his tone cool, but casual as he gracefully leaned against the door. Hermione's face turned a slight pinkish color. She was stunned by his changed nature. Only this morning he was nearly mad, and now, she could see some level of composure.

Draco spoke again, "I heard your little argument with the Weasle. Trouble in paradise?" Draco teased menacingly. "You never were very good with the opposite sex, though, were you?"

Hermione angrily exhaled, too emotionally drained to deal with yet another bastard tonight. Though she had been wanting to speak with Draco for days now, she was not prepared for his arrogance right now.

"If you're here to start another fight, get the fuck out Malfoy. I don't have the time, nor the patience for you as well."   
  
Draco held up his hands as a sign of surrender. "I am simply here to offer you something you want, a proposition of sorts." Hermione's ears perked up at Draco's words. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say, but I want my wand back," Draco stated slyly, his cunning manipulation dripping from his smooth voice.

"Even if I could get you your wand back, I'm not stupid enough to do it," Hermione retorted, trying to ignore the warm feeling his voice sent into her stomach.

"Then you're wasting all this time for nothing Granger," Draco coyly said, taking a step back towards the door of her room.

"It's technically not even your wand," Hermione stated factually, baiting him, much the same as he was doing to her. "But, you would know that if you knew what happened."

"Then how do you have a wand?" Draco accusingly shot back, trying to find holes in her story.

The spark slipped quickly from Hermione's eyes as she stared guiltily at the floor.

"It's Tonks' wand."

"Tonks?"

"Your cousin. She was a member of the Order. She didn't make it through the last battle. They managed to secure her wand, though. It responds better to me than the Death Eater's wands we were using." Hermione knew that vague honesty was the best course of action. She hoped that her trustworthiness would be as transparent as it had been in the Labyrinth. Unfortunately, this meant she had to be vulnerable to a man who had the power to wield it however he wished, a man who was not entirely mentally stable at the moment. The thought, though terrifying, did nothing to quell Hermione's conviction. She was going to see this through to whatever end fate would bring.

"While I'm not willing to offer you a wand, yet," Hermione began, mimicking his coy tone. She took a casual step towards him, "I am willing to offer you a wand after you watch ever memory I have of our time in the Labyrinth."

"What do you mean watch the memories?" Draco questioned suspiciously.

"Draco, I... I'm not sure I will ever be able to technically get your memories back-"

"Then why the hell did you tell me you could? If you cannot offer me my memories, then you are just as worthless as you've always been," Draco spat out, and he quickly turned on his heel to exit the room.

"You stubborn prat! Will you let me finish?" Hermione's frustration was reaching its peak. If she could only get him to understand. As he turned the knob on the door, Hermione blurted out, "Have you ever used a Pensieve before?

"Yes," Draco responded cautiously, and Hermione knew his curiosity was piqued.

"So technically, these memories you will be seeing are not your own. They will be mine. But I think it may help you to better understand the position you're in now." Hermione huffed,"I don't know if there is a way to get your memories back, at least, not without a better understanding of the magic used to take them. So this is the next best thing I can offer you."

Draco considered her words. He had to admit, that didn't sound so bad. And with a wand, he would be able to escape. As long as he played everything right, if he could just get Granger to trust him enough to slip up, he could have his freedom. Draco could see what Blaise had meant about the Gryffindor before him; there was a longing in her eyes, a caring that he had seldom seen in his life. It could certainly be used to his advantage, Draco reflected.

"Fine, I accept. But only under the condition that I receive a wand when this is all over."

Hermione nodded her head. She was confident that after seeing the experiences that he lost, he would not be willing to use the wand against her. At least... she hoped.

"Alright then. Follow me."   
  
"Now?"  
  
"Do you have anything better to do?" Hermione challenged. Draco sneered but motioned for her to lead the way.   
  
Hermione led Draco up a few more flights of stairs. Off to the right of the staircase was a room even smaller than the one he resided in now. It contained a desk, some books, and a curio cabinet. Hermione unlocked the cabinet with her wand and lifted out a small, stone bowl that was filled with a silvery substance.

Draco curiously inspected the object as she set it on the table. Placing her wand against her head, Hermione pulled a thin silver strand from her head and placed it in the basin.

"I'm going to start us at the beginning, with our escape. I think it will be best to go in order," Hermione determined. For Draco to have a full understanding, Hermione knew he would need to see the progression of their time together, of his own personal growth.

"Take my arm," Hermione instructed. Draco could see her anxiety showing on her face, but tried to ignore it. Best for him to just get this over with, he decided.

Taking a deep breath Draco gripped Hermione's arm and suddenly the room around them was swirling in a hazy smoke as he was transported into Hermione's nightmare.


	10. Chapter 10

The hazy world that materialized around Draco had the quality of a bad dream, foggy and grey. And yet, in the intricacy of its detail, the sharp stone walls and floor, the dank, wet aroma, it all felt very real. A slight inhale of breath next to him alerted him to Hermione's presence. Although moments before she had seemed so sure in her decision, exuding her typical confidence, her body language now betrayed her anxiety. Her thin shoulders moved up and down with her forceful gasps of air, and her expressive eyes showed a deeply rooted fear that seemed to have bubbled up from within her spine, seeping its way up into her copper eyes. Footsteps echoed off the stone wall. One step, then two, then three. Draco could hear the shuffle of a limp leg, followed by the pounding of a heavy footstep. The rhythmic noise continued for a few moments while Hermione and Draco stood entirely still.

"Granger where are-" Draco said after a moment, but his voice was interrupted by the appearance of a ragged, wounded looking Hermione from around one of the stone walls. She was hazy, much like the rest of the world, shadowy and surreal. Draco blinked for a moment, orienting himself to the vision of two Hermione's; One who was stronger, yet fearful, and the other who looked beaten and helpless. Draco felt Hermione's soft, warm hand on his shoulder, nudging him forward to follow her mirage. To keep up, they both had to sprint as they followed the limping woman down the narrowing, dimly lit halls.

"This is the Labyrinth," Hermione whispered softly beside Draco as they wound through the stone maze. "Our cell doors had just opened and I was trying to find an exit."

"And what does this have to do with me?" Draco said, confused as to why Hermione would choose this as a starting place for his own memories.

"You'll see soon," Hermione snapped. She was more focused on trying to calm herself than attend to Draco's arrogant jeering. Being back here, feeling the claustrophobia of the impenetrable stone walls, the suffocating shadows, Hermione could hardly breathe. When she had gone over this moment in her head, of showing Draco his memories, she never anticipated feeling the crushing effects of the Labyrinth again.

In the distance, the whispers of the Death Eaters echoed off the walls, but Hermione and Draco continued to follow her memory down the winding halls. Draco was entrapped by the scene around him, his own heart picking up in pace. Though he knew Hermione lived through this ordeal, he was still nervous as to what would happen next.

He watched with fascination as the memory of Hermione discovered she had hit a dead-end, the footsteps of the Death Eaters banging ever louder behind her. Suddenly, a hand reached out a grasped her through the wall, pulling her through the seemingly hard stone. His eyes widened a fraction, and then Draco quickly dove after the image of Hermione through the wall, not wanting to miss a moment. Hermione slowly followed, reluctant to witness the moment Draco saw his depraved state for the first time.

From afar, it looked like two lovers caught in a moment of passion up against the wall. In reality, the image of Draco was whispering of his intention to kill her, and Hermione's eyes were fearfully looking at the man covering her body.

_"Granger, if you don't stop making noise I swear I will kill you myself," Draco's image whispered. "Be absolutely still."_

Draco was curiously inspecting the scene in front of him with a mixture of horror and fascination. Hermione's memory of him was nearly unrecognizable. The only feature that Draco recognized was his signature white-blonde hair, which was streaked with dried, dark blood. He walked close to the images of himself and Hermione, listening to the whispers exchanged between them.

" _You're...You're a prisoner,"_ Hermione's memory sounded muffled, dulled by the surrounding haze. Draco took a step closer to hear his response, fearfully inspecting his ghost's emaciated body, and injuries.

" _Yes well the Dark Lord doesn't take too kindly to blood traitors," His image snapped. "We should keep moving."_

Blood traitor? Draco was stunned. And _he_ was the one to suggest they continue on together? Draco's heart constricted in his chest under the sudden weight of his anger and he indignantly turned to the woman beside him.

"I am not a blood traitor! These are lies... I'm witnessing _your_ lies," Draco spat out, anger boiling within. In a moment of irony, he cornered her body against the wall, a mirror image of what had just transpired between them in the memory.

"Draco, this is _real_. All of it. Please just keep watching, I promise it will all make sense soon," Hermione anxiously attempted to calm him. She placed her hand against his hard chest soothingly, and gently pushed him back a step, her glistening eyes never leaving his. "I know this is difficult, and… and it's okay to be angry. Just give this a chance," Hermione pleaded softly. Knowing his mental state was even more precarious than her own, Hermione watched him intently, looking for the moment when she needed to end their time in the Labyrinth.

Draco took a deep breath and gave her a curt nod before turning his back on her. Despite not trusting Granger, he knew this was his only chance to find out what had happened. His skull throbbed painfully as he tried to remember his own memory of this moment, of him whispering threats against Hermione's neck, but his attempts were futile. The more he tried to find these memories within, the more pained he felt.

_"Why should I go anywhere with you?" Hermione's memory spat out, "What the hell is going on Malfoy. One minute I'm sitting in my cell, and the next you're pulling me through enchanted walls. And now you're asking me to follow you? I don't trust you."_

Draco continued to watch the tense exchange between the two in the memory; He noted, in particular, the anger that flashed in his eyes when Hermione further accused him of being a Death Eater, and how he looked at her with pity as she tried to pick herself up off the Labyrinth floor. There was clearly no trust to be found, and yet, the pair still followed each other down the halls. The image of himself cringed angrily when Hermione accused him of being a Death Eater, which struck Draco as a peculiar response. Shouldn't he be proud of that fact? But, as he looked at the condition of his image, the ragged clothing hanging off his thin frame, he knew that he was no longer a Death Eater within the Labyrinth.

Hermione stood watching the scene, both what had happened, and Draco's new reactions and she could not help but feel hypocritical. Here, she had directly stated she did not trust him, just as Draco had upon his arrival to the Order. Hermione had not given him any real reason to trust her, other than the fact that she had memories of a time when he had placed his faith in her. But, despite her not trusting Draco initially in the Labyrinth, she had followed eventually, Hermione thought begrudgingly. Perhaps there was still hope that Draco would trust her, as she had learned to trust him. She let out a small sigh, _patience, Hermione._  
  
Draco's face was as usual, mostly unreadable. His eyes, though, were like that of a hawk, moving to follow every detail within the scene. The only emotion she could gauge were the brief flashes of confusion behind his light eyes and the furrowing of his brows.

Hermione allowed the memory to continue for a little while longer. She wanted Draco to fully understand the horrible, crippling silence, and to see the growing sense of fear both of them had felt as they lost themselves in the maze. There was a small part of Hermione that was glad Draco could experience these feelings, if only second-hand so that she herself would have someone who could finally understand an inkling of what she had gone through.

Draco watched the pair intently as they walked through the dark halls. Surprisingly, they had managed to walk without bickering much. Though Draco did not really know what he had been thinking as he walked, he could see the tension in his body language; Draco knew he had been fearful. The image of Hermione asked him a few questions during their walk, largely regarding what little he knew about the Labyrinth and how it was managed.

When Hermione finally felt Draco had a good understanding of how their hours had passed, she thought of another moment on their walk, and the pair were suddenly enveloped in a different part of her memory.

_"This is ineffective" Hermione had hissed, "Malfoy, we need a plan. We are going to walk ourselves to death..."_

_"And what do you suggest we do, Granger?" Malfoy growled, sounding just as frustrated as she was.  
_

_"I don't know but this isn't workin-"_

_"Brightest witch of our age? Laughable." Malfoy taunted._

Draco snickered at his taunt. "It's true, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes in response, not giving him the satisfaction of her words. Suddenly, a howl rang out through the Labyrinth walls. Even though Hermione knew she was safe inside the Pensieve, her heart still stopped beating for a moment, and her hands grew cold and sweaty in response. Draco and Hermione chased after their images as they took off running through the memory of the Labyrinth halls. When they came to the Limbo mist, Draco observed the general cooperation between the pair, and the small moment when he had gently touched Hermione's back to keep her moving forward. It was almost too much for him to understand. Why was he helping her? Why had he chosen to save her through the Labyrinth wall? watching Granger's memory was challenging; he had no idea what he had been thinking through all these moments, and it was driving him mad.

Draco looked on as they finally passed through the Limbo mist and into a large hall, filled with doors.

"This is where they keep the prisoners," Hermione interjected into the memory, breaking Draco out of his thoughts. Her voice was small and weary; He could hear the sadness clinging around the edges of her words.

" _Wait… Malfoy, wait! We have to help them."_

" _I don't have to do anything. I owe them nothing, Granger," the memory of Draco sneered back._

After years of practice, Draco's cool facade and impassive face were coming back to haunt him. He could not gauge what he had been thinking at that moment. He saw brief flashes of vulnerability every so often, but he longed to read his mind, to know what thoughts were floating through his brain as he stalked away from Granger.

What he could see, however, was the inner workings of Hermione's mind. Her large, ever expressive eyes presented a clear window into her thoughts. The guilt seemed to swallow up her form, making her appear frailer than she had moments before.

_"Maybe in your fantasy world you lead them all to safety, but I live in a world where it is every wizard for himself. You're not as brilliant as everyone thinks you are if you are seriously even considering this. You can stay and get yourself killed for all I care, but I value my life. Do you really think they would do the same for you?"_

Draco heard his conviction and years of training in self-preservation in action. Watching the scene before him, he'd likely make the same decision now, he thought.

_"You really are nothing but a coward Malfoy. They are innocent witches and wizards. How can you live with yourself?"  
_

In the memory, she had been nearly shaking with rage at the audacity and coldness of his words. Draco saw the anger turned into a clear disgust on Hermione's face, as well as in her body language. That anger, however, quickly gave way to frustration. Hermione's image rubbed her temples, pained under the weight of her decision. Fascinated, Draco took a step closer to the ghost and saw how her eyes dimmed the longer she processed the decision before her. Draco knew Hermione was not stupid, and he suspected that they had left the Labyrinth with no other prisoners, which meant Hermione had eventually drawn the same, cold, calculated conclusion that he had; Taking prisoners would be a death sentence for them.

But then, from the frustration, curiosity washed over Hermione's features. Her brows furrowed and she stared hard at Draco's back.

_"Malfoy," Hermione called after him, curiosity evident in her voice, "Why did you save me?"_

Draco waited eagerly for his answer, but he could not see his reaction to Hermione's question. In truth, Draco had been thinking the same thing as he watched the memory. He had no reason to save her, and yet he had pulled her through the wall, protecting her from the Death Eaters at personal risk to himself. That was very unlike him.

_"If you want to make it out of here alive, I suggest we move quickly. Your stupidity is going to get us both killed."_

Draco paused, displeased that he did not have an answer to Hermione's question of _why_. As he went to turn towards Hermione of the real world, to further ask about this particular memory, he paused, seeing the fear etched into her eyes.

Hermione knew what was coming next, and her body tensed in response. The scream of the lone prisoner reverberated through her ears, and once again stabbed her soul like a knife. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, trying to steady her breathing but the gasps would not stop. The regret of leaving the others behind flooded her just as sharply as it had the first time. She was drowning in the sound of a single scream, gasping for air at the memory alone.

_I can't do this anymore,_ Hermione thought to herself as she watched the memory of the Labyrinth cloud around her. The pain of what she had done, of the people she had left… _This has to end. Now._

The room around them swirled in a cloud of grey fog, and when Draco's vision finally righted itself again, they were back in the cottage. Hermione's eyes were squeezed shut, and her breathing was audible, sharp gasps ripping from her throat. Draco took a step towards her so his toes nearly touched hers, and stared down at her shivering form.

"Why did you stop?" Draco arrogantly questioned, angry that the memory had been interrupted. It felt as though his consciousness had been ripped from him. Hermione's pause in the memory created a barrier against his own.

"I can't see anymore tonight," Hermione whispered painfully, her eyes downcast, ashamed.

"Why not?" Draco demanded. After a moment of silence, Draco grasped Hermione's chin lightly and forced her eyes upwards to meet his. Hermione opened her mouth ungracefully and then shut it again quickly, unable to form the proper words. Physically she looked stronger than she had in the flashbacks, Draco noted. Her hair was lustrous once again, and her cheeks had a healthy glow, despite still being nothing more than bony, sharp edges. But, she looked mentally just as worn as in the Labyrinth, and less determined than when they had entered the Pensieve. The inquisitive gaze she usually looked at him with was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by a solemn stare.

But, despite Hermione's deteriorated state, there was a need for him to see more, to experience his lost memories, and it overwhelmed his sense of compassion. 

Draco sneered, "I have a right to see this." Draco narrowed his eyes, analyzing her for another moment, her short breaths, her wide eyes. The Gryffindor courage was nowhere to be found. Noticing his hand was still resting under Hermione's chin, Draco quickly snatched it away and took a step back. "What are you so afraid of, Granger?"

Hermione rubbed her temples. "It's just more exhausting to be back there than I anticipated. What you are seeing is a sliver of what it was actually like to be trapped there. I just...I just don't wish to see any more for tonight," Hermione said, and though Draco could sense her honesty, he ignored it, his selfish nature roaring out in force. How could she possibly make him understand the regret for her actions? His heart was just as cold now as it had been in the memory.

"Granger, I don't particularly care how you feel, I need to see these memories," he paused and his eyes widened a fraction. "Unless…are you afraid I will see something? Something to prove you are a liar?" Draco challenged.

"What purpose do I have to lie to you?" Hermione snapped, taken aback by his arrogance and distrust of her. After all he had seen, he still was suspicious.

"To get me to stay here," Draco simply stated, realizing a moment too late how childish the words sounded.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "You're acting like an insufferable, selfish arse."

"And you're just as weak as I thought," Draco sneered. His words were no harsher than things he had said in the past, however, the moment they fell upon Hermione's ears, he regretted it. Her face hardened, and her expressive eyes became blank and stony.

Hermione turned to exit the room without another word to Draco.

"And what exactly would you like me to do now?" Draco called after her.

"Search around, go back to your room, run away... I really don't give a damn what you choose to do right now, Malfoy," Hermione said, never turning around to face him.

With parting indifference, she walked down the stairs, leaving Draco alone to analyze what he had just experienced, Hermione's memories, and his actions towards the Gryffindor princess.

Balise's warning from earlier came back to him, and he let out a groan. Even if he managed to find a wand lying around in the house, and leave without anyone stopping him, who knew what was waiting for him out there. Blaise was right, he would die alone. Not the least of which, if Hermione's memories really were accurate, he was a blood traitor of some sorts. The thought bothered him less than he cared to admit.

Becoming a Death Eater had not been his choice, at least, not entirely. And what of his father? If Blaise was to be believed, why had Lucius turned on his only heir? There was no end to the number of questions Draco longed to ask, but Granger was not the person he wanted to let into the private workings of his brain. He didn't trust her, especially seeing as though these memories had not helped in the slightest. Draco felt more confused, angrier, and his head was pounding with overwhelming activity.

Sighing, Draco trudged down the stairs to his tiny room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

What Hermione needed after that travesty was a good cup of tea. And a shot of fire whiskey. Or a butterbeer. Anything really.

She made her way down to the kitchen, hoping not to bump into anyone along the way. There was little will in her left to deal with people, no matter how much she may love them.

She began to prepare the water for her tea. Because her mind was elsewhere, she burned herself twice before accomplishing what she set out to accomplish. She had not anticipated it to be so difficult to review her memories. The scream of the prisoner had been too much of a burden on her mind. It awoke all the feelings of regret and guilt that she had spent the last few weeks trying to heal. Here she was, in a cozy cottage, relatively safe, while there were still people locked away, suffering under the rule of a madman.

And then there was Draco. Was he correct? Was she really weak? She certainly felt it. The old her would not even recognize these feelings of uncertainty. After all the work to get Draco into the Pensieve, he was still an unappreciative arse. Still demanding, still cruel… much like he was at the beginning of their trek through the Labyrinth. She had chosen to forget their first meeting and how he treated her initially in favor of remembering their later memories, the warmth he brought to her, their comforting conversations as they aimlessly wandered through the maze.

Regardless of his insufferable nature, Hermione did feel guilty about her equally harsh words to him. She had just been so angry at her helplessness in the Labyrinth, that she had snapped. Just as she thought they were making progress...

"You've been gone for a while," a calming voice startled Hermione out of her deep thoughts. She jumped, causing a bit of hot water to spill on the wooden kitchen counter.

"Merlin, Harry! You could have knocked before barging in here," Hermione gasped out.

"Yes... because knocking to enter the communal kitchen is customary," Harry said with a chuckle, ignoring Hermione's glare as he sat the table. "How'd it go?"

"It… oh it was absolute shit. A total fucking mess, honestly." Hermione let out a hysterical laugh, rubbing her temples for a moment. "It ended in a screaming match. I didn't realize that I wouldn't be able to handle reliving the Labyrinth. But he was totally unappreciative of my memories."

"I never thought I'd stick up for Draco, but it seems you're judging one another on memories that you both don't have anymore," Harry sighed. "That's not to say he's not a bastard," He quickly added, "but you need to find new common ground."

Hermione thought for a moment before responding. "It's just hard. I'm impatient," Hermione huffed.

"You're beginning to sound like me," Harry smirked. "And Ron for that matter..."

"Oh Ronald," Hermione muttered. "Is he alright?"

"You know him -he's sulking but he will get over it. He's a hothead, but he really does love you, Hermione." Harry shrugged, trying not to take sides amongst his two best friends. It was best if they worked things out for themselves.

"I just don't think he's right for me. I've changed, and I've realized a lot about myself," Hermione tried to explain. "I need a challenge, something more..." She whispered, her cheeks turning slightly red. As she spoke the words, Draco's face floated into her thoughts; His soothing touch in the Labyrinth, his presence that made her feel safe even as they were surrounded by danger.

"You mean you need someone like Draco?" Harry asked curiously, observing Hermione's uncharacteristic blush.

"That's not what I said," Hermione huffed. Harry raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak, but before he got the chance Neville, Ginny, and George barged into the kitchen.

"Well, this is a sight I haven't seen in ages!" George excitedly said, slapping Harry on the back, and giving Hermione's shoulder a light squeeze. "What are we drinking?" He eyed Hermione's mug curiously, leaning down to take a sniff.

"Still boring," George yawned, pulling a flask out of his pocket. "Care to spice it up?" He winked, devilishly.

Hermione laughed, "I am not boring!"

"I mean," Neville interjected on her behalf, "She has a point, George. How could a boring person get into so much trouble?"

"Because she's friends with this lot," Harry chuckled, smiling at Hermione's scowl.

"Very funny," Hermione sarcastically quipped. "I will have you know that I don't need alcohol to have fun."

"But it helps," George replied.

"Oh lay off," Ginny came to her defense. "Hi, Hermione!" She smiled excitedly.

Hermione smiled back, shaking her head slightly at her friend's enthusiasm. She did miss them something awful. While her reading was comforting and distracting, there was a large piece of her that she had not yet regained by avoiding her friends. As they were all laughing at another joke George was telling, Hermione was the only one who noticed Remus wearily enter the kitchen, looking pale and drained.

She watched as he walked over to the cauldron of hot water she had prepared, and quietly poured himself a cup of tea.

"Everything alright?" Hermione turned to him and asked. The state of his thin frame and his dreadful appearance made Hermione worried. The rest of the group turned to him, their prior exuberance giving way to melancholy.

"We followed another false lead, and were almost ambushed," Remus slowly stated. Ginny gasped slightly from beside her. "We are fine, but were it not for Arthur we would have fallen into a trap. We suspect they know we are looking for another Horcrux."

"Another Horcrux?" Hermione exclaimed in surprise. She shook her head, looking at Remus to answer the questions pooling in her eyes. Remus walked over to the table and sat in the chair across from Hermione, taking a long sip of tea before continuing.

"We still don't know why Voldemort did not fall after the battle. We did everything right, we followed Dumbledore's instructions. Hell, Harry sacrificed himself," Remus said, exasperation bleeding into his voice. "The only thing we can think of is that we missed a Horcrux."

"Merlin's beard, you really think he made more than seven?" Hermione felt ill as she even spoke the words. To rip one's soul, even once, was detrimental to the whole. To rip a soul seven times, was entirely damaging. But to rip the soul eight times? That was a degree of madness so treacherous that Hermione could not comprehend it.

"Perhaps he knew that Dumbledore would eventually find Slughorn's lost memory in which he asked about splitting his soul seven times. Because the memory was not safe, he created an additional Horcrux. Even in his arrogance, he is cunning," Remus rapidly spoke, not thinking about the words before they flew from his mouth.

"Or," Hermione began brainstorming with Remus, "What if we interpreted the memory wrong all along. What if he never counted the soul in his own body as a piece, but instead wanted to make seven pieces outside of himself? It would make sense as to why when he inadvertently created the Horcrux in Harry, it nearly destroyed him."

"There are many possibilities Hermione, but right now we have nothing to go on." Remus was clearly frustrated, stretched as thin as a unicorn hair about to snap. This war had been going on far too long, with far too many casualties. "We have collectively started looking for the other Horcrux, but everything we have destroyed never ends up being an actual Horcrux. Voldemort is weak and in hiding, potentially hanging on to the only living piece of his soul left."

"So we have nothing?" Hermione surmised drearily, her hand reaching up to push a strand of hair out of her eyes.

Lupin stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head sadly.

"We have nothing," he confirmed, sullen, a man about to shatter under the weight of his stress.

Hermione looked around at the fearful, despondent faces of her loved ones. It was all too much. "Oh fuck it all," she yelled as she reached for the flask of fire whiskey George had placed on the table. She tipped her head back and swigged straight from the bottle.

Neville looked on in shock. Harry laughed, and George, well, he reached for the bottle and followed Hermione's lead.

The news was awful. There was little hope. And, if they were all to die, if there really was to be no happy ending to this fight, they could not spend their last moments together living in fear every second. Hermione giggled as she watched Neville hesitantly sniff at the bottle, his nose scrunching in disgust. Her worries about Draco and his memories, and the fight against the Dark Lord could wait until the morning. She would head to the library as soon as she woke up, she promised herself.

Tonight, they all had things they needed to forget. She smiled lightly at George, who gave her a small wink as if he were reading her thoughts and silently agreeing with her sentiments.

And as Hermione stumbled up the stairs later that night, laughing prettily against Harry's shoulder, forget was just what she had done. Well, she had mostly forgotten. There was one more thing she needed to do before a drunken slumber overtook her.

After Harry had shut the door to his room, Hermione stumbled towards Draco's door. She tried to muffle her whiskey induced giggling, to no avail. She needed Draco to know. She wanted him to understand why his words had upset her. She knocked on his door furiously, not caring whether the man was sleeping.

From the other side of the door, Draco groggily rose out of bed at the insistent knocking. _What the fuck?_ Draco thought. No one ever bothered him at this hour. Without putting on a shirt, Draco quickly made his way to the door, not bothering to smooth out his messy hair. When he pulled the door open, his jaw dropped open slightly. A hard finger pushed into his bare chest.

"You," Hermione slurred, poking a finger above his heart. "You're a mean git. But you once admired my courage."

"Are you drunk?" Draco said, appalled at the sight of the normally reserved woman. Never had he seen so much uncontained life in her eyes. Her cheeks were painted a warm pink. With her body in such close proximity to his, he could feel the warmth radiating off her as she stumbled closer to his chest.

"I. Am. Not. Weak." Hermione annunciated every word as clearly as her brain would allow. Before Draco could respond, she turned on her wobbly feet and tried to walk to her room, but, her legs failed her and she slipped ungracefully to the floor. Her maddening giggles echoed down the hallway.

Draco was stunned but knew that if she continued to make noise the weasel across the hall would wake up. Without another moment of hesitation, he grabbed Hermione from under one arm and pulled her to her feet. Her head fell against his chest as he walked her, with great difficulty, to her room. _Thank Merlin the door is open,_ Draco thought, as he half dragged the lithe woman to her bed. He pushed her onto her small bed, and Draco noted that she smelled of an alluring mix of cinnamon and fire whiskey; warm, familiar scents from his past.

Before anyone could see him half-naked, standing over a very incapacitated Hermione, he fled the room, and quietly shut his door behind him. He knew she would never remember this moment, and he chuckled at the irony of the situation. Now he had leverage over her, the way she did over him.

For the rest of the night, Draco paced his room with a determined purpose, lost in his ever maddening thoughts. After Hermione's unexpected slurred scolding, there was no falling asleep again. His restless night gave way to an equally restless day, that was only interrupted by Mrs. Weasley bringing him meals.

_Why had he saved her?_ Why had she followed him? He saw no reason as to _why_ she would. She herself admitted to not trusting him, and his exchanges with her were none too pleasant if he were being honest.

His time in Hermione's memory had only served to further frustrate him.

Draco knew he had always been prideful, a trait of the Malfoy's. But this situation, his current life, demanded that he not be. He sighed, accepting his reality as he had not been able to before. Perhaps that is why Hermione followed him? She too was prideful, as he knew from their time together at Hogwarts. Their situation had made her more willing to follow him, or so he assumed. Although she was annoying and had plagued him his whole life, Draco knew that he had little reason not to trust her, he begrudgingly admitted to himself.

Draco could sit in his tiny room for the rest of the night wasting away under his thoughts, but the logical side of his mind knew that would yield him no answers. In order to move past this, he had to confront the one person he loathed with a passion. Sighing, he stood up, and walked over to the door, determined to learn more about his past, so that he could find a new future. When he turned the door handle, he half expected to find it locked again, as it had been for weeks, but he easily pushed it open. Trust, it seemed, was at least going one way.

He knocked on Granger's door and waited for an answer. Hearing none, he paused, thinking about where else he could find her. _Likely the library_ , he scoffed, thinking back to Hogwarts and all the times he had seen her with a stack of books in close reach.

From across the hall, he heard the door opened and turned. While Hermione had given him permission to leave his room, he doubted anyone else would feel the same. A red-headed girl emerged from one of the doors. _The Weaselette, lovely..._ Draco thought condescendingly. She stopped dead in her tracks and eyed him with suspicion.

"What are you doing out of your room?" She asked cautiously, as if afraid of him.

"Where is Granger?" He responded, arrogantly ignoring her question.

"Why should I tell you?" Ginny shot back, defensive of her friend.

"Because I need to speak with her. She is the one who unlocked my door," Draco answered, trying hard to keep his tone even, so as not to offend the girl more than his presence already did. He didn't have time, nor the patience to be in this pissing contest with her.

Ginny eyed him with even more suspicion, her face squinting as she stared at him, but, eventually, she gave in. "She's in the library. It's the door on the left when you head downstairs," she replied coolly.

_Knew it,_ Draco thought, rolling his eyes. He turned quickly to walk down the stairs.

"You're welcome!" Ginny called from behind him. " _Arse_..." Draco heard her mutter under her breath.

Draco walked down the flight of stairs, and when he finally found the room, he paused in the doorway. Hermione was curled up on the leather sofa, tucked into a book. Her eyes were deeply focused, yet bright with unanswered questions and curiosity. Draco had to admit, despite her annoying, self-righteous attitude, she had grown into herself over the years. Her confidence was subtle, with a slight air of authority. Her hair had grown long in the Labyrinth, tumbling in light waves past her shoulders. Her petite features and small nose were accentuated by wide, copper eyes. She did not possess the classic pure-blooded beauty of Astoria, but she was certainly not ugly, Draco thought uneasily.

"Granger," Draco said, breaking the woman out of her trance. She jumped, startled by the abruptness of his tone. "In the Labyrinth, why did you follow me? You didn't trust me, you said so yourself," Draco questioned apprehensively. Their interaction in the Labyrinth had been none too kind, and even he was a tad embarrassed by the harsh words he had said to her. But what he could not understand was why he would even want the filthy girl to be near him. Surely she was just cause for trouble.

Hermione carefully considering her words, a trait Draco noted, that she did often. Even he had to admit he had slight admiration for this, as most people just spoke to hear themselves. In Draco's world, he knew many wizards, intelligent or not, who operated simply with their impulses, the most primitive of human function. Hermione was above that, and each syllable was thoughtfully chosen to maximize its effect. She carefully laid down the parchment she was reading, lifting her chin so her eyes met Draco's directly.

"I think I followed you because I had nowhere else to go. You had no reason to save me, and yet you did. I certainly didn't feel good about it, but." Hermione shrugged her delicate shoulders. "I made a quick decision and went with it."

"And why did I save you?" Draco finally asked the question that had been taunting him since he left the Pensieve.

"I don't know," Hermione answered honestly. "I can only guess that while we both hated each other, it was understood that we would not survive alone. From my perspective, I had been locked in a cell alone for months, and so had you. There is no worse punishment than loneliness," Hermione finally whispered, and in her voice, Draco heard a pain he had seldom before. The sharpness of her voice that typically carried her confidence was shattered and weak as she admitted her fear of this loneliness. Draco was witnessing her hurt, and understood, finally, how difficult this all was for her. While Draco was experiencing this world for the first time, Hermione was reliving it, sacrificing her comfort so that he may have some understanding.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he owed her the same courtesy she was bestowing upon him; understanding, patience, and above all, respect. Draco was remembering their past from Hogwarts and using it to judge their current situation. Without his memories, he felt strangely empty, like a cauldron of water that had bubbled over and was never replenished.

"I'd like to try again…when you're ready, of course," Draco quickly added.

"Draco, I really want to show you more, I just... I need a small break to prepare myself before we go forward. It gets much worse," Hermione shuddered.

Draco held up his hands in surrender, "Alright then, you know where to find me when you're ready," Draco said cautiously. "Just don't make me wait too long," he added arrogantly for good measure.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Would you like to join me here? Our rooms aren't terribly comfortable, and...and at least there is something to keep you busy," Hermione cautiously suggested, motioning to the endless supply of books surrounding her. She didn't know why, but she held her breath as she waited for his answer.

Draco's eyes widened. Surely this woman, after everything he had said to her over their lifetime, did not actually want to spend time with him. But, he found no malice in her expressive face, only eagerness as she awaited his answer.

"Alright," Draco shrugged, trying to look casual as his heart picked up tempo in his chest. With poise that only a Malfoy could possess, he sauntered over to the old, worn couch and sat down on the opposite side of Hermione, making sure to keep as much distance between them as allowed by the couch. He looked at the pile of books next to him and read the labels; Memories and Magic, Potions for the Mind, Dark Magic for the Soul.

"On second thought, it may be less boring in my room," Draco muttered.   
  
Hermione chuckled next to him, and his own mouth quirked upwards in response. The small gesture was stunningly bright on Draco's cold features, and Hermione felt her skin erupt in tiny chills. It was the first smile she had seen on his face in weeks, and it was then that she realized how much she truly missed him. Sitting on the couch next to her, curled up in their books, this seemed normal, like an evening she would spend even if the world wasn't crashing down around them.

But for his physical closeness, Hermione knew just how far away Draco still was from her.

"Tomorrow," Hermione spoke suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence in the room. "We'll go to the Pensieve again tomorrow," she said, more determined this time.

Draco nodded, his eyes staring into hers, searching for any bit of doubt. He found none.

The pair sat in comfortable silence for the remainder of the night, absorbed in their reading. Every so often, Hermione glanced over to observe Draco; his eyes were scanning the pages thoughtfully, and every so often, his eyebrows would pull in concentration. He looked far better than he had last she had seen him, and she wondered what brought about his change in their arrangement. Whatever the reason, Hermione was content enough to be pacified for the night, despite the looming travel back into the Labyrinth tomorrow.

"I should get some rest," Hermione finally whispered through the silence, stretching against the back of the sofa.

"Why?" Draco said, arrogant once again. "It's not as though you sleep at night anyway."

"And how would you know that?" Hermione haughtily retorted.

"I hear you some nights, pacing, crying," Draco elaborated, much to Hermione's horror. She should have realized that if she could hear him pacing, he could hear the same from her room.

"Right," Hermione said, embarrassed by Draco's admission, though she still stood from her place on the sofa. " I'll see you in the morning, Draco."

All Draco could do was nod in agreement. "Knock on my door when you are ready," he said, making no move to leave the couch. After another long glance, Hermione silently left the room, thinking about her strange encounter with Draco, and all the next morning would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Sighs * This is the chapter that made me abandon the story for over a year - it took 2 full rewrites before I posted, and I am still woefully disappointed in it for some reason. It's in need of serious work. Any suggestions or critiques are welcome! THE NEW CHAPTER WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW. Stay tuned :D 
> 
> I am eternally indebted to your kind words, kudos, and love. Thank you.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should have split into two chapters - It's long! You've been warned. 
> 
> NEW CHAPTER OUT TOMORROW NIGHT! For more updates on my other works, mood boards, snippets, and aesthetics find me on Tumblr at Amjohnson0518

A knock on the door awoke Hermione from her surprisingly deep slumber. There had been no dreams last night, no feelings of terror or whispers of memories to keep her awake that night. And yet, when the knock echoed through her room, her first instinct was the pull the covers up over her head.

She dreaded what today could possibly bring.

Hermione groaned when the knocking at the door grew louder. Maybe if she stayed quiet long enough, whoever it was would just leave. There were a few more moments of silence, and just as Hermione was about to breathe easily again, another hard knock rumbled against the wooden doorframe.

_Persistent bastard_ , Hermione frowned. She lazily rose out of the bed, stretching before padding lightly towards the door. From experience, she knew that her hair would be in knots after the long night's sleep, but as the knocking continued, she thought better of taking the time to brush her tangled curls.

As soon as she pulled the door opened, a warm cup of tea was shoved into her delicate hands.

"I brought you tea and some breakfast." A croissant was suddenly pushed towards her mouth, which was slightly open due to her utter confusion. "You were taking far too long," Draco grumbled.

Hermione's eyes were still glassy from sleep, and she knew she must look like a fool. Her cheeks reddened and her heart thrummed in her ears. She looked down at the cup of tea and the croissant in her hands, and then back up at Draco curiously.

"Um, right, thanks," she whispered tentatively. This was certainly odd. "What time is it?"

"Nearly noon," Draco said condescendingly, his cool eyes taking in her less than savory appearance. As she surveyed him, she could tell he was freshly showered, wearing a crisp button-down shirt, his sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. His hair was pushed effortlessly off his forehead. Hermione sheepishly glanced down at her thin camisole and worn out pajama pants. She wanted to cross her arms over her chest, to keep some modesty, but the tea and the croissant prevented her from doing so. She let out a small sigh. Only Malfoy could be capable of making her feel uncomfortable this shortly after waking up.

"Noon!" Hermione exclaimed, mostly to herself. This was the first time in weeks that she had slept through the night, let alone well past breakfast. "I just need a shower and then we can go to the Pensieve," she said apprehensively. He flashed an uneven smirk at her as she verbalized her agreement to review more of his past, and Hermione could swear his pale eyes warmed a fraction.

"I'll be next door when you're ready to begin," Draco eagerly said. Hermione's stomach tightened as she saw his eyes travel slowly up and down her form one more time before turning to exit her room.

When he left, Hermione quickly drank her tea and took a few small bites of the buttery pastry. No one had ever brought her breakfast to her room before, and Hermione could not help the small smile that formed on her lips. Although she knew he was doing it purely for selfish reasons, it felt nice that he had thought to bring her something. Deep down, the icy prince of Slytherin always had a softer side, memories or not.

Hermione knew it would be unwise to keep Draco waiting longer than necessary, and as a result, her shower was not nearly as relaxing, nor as long, as she wanted. For the first time in a while, Hermione paused for a moment to deliberate what to wear for the day. She thought back to Draco's effortlessly regal composure and sighed in defeat. Instead, she reached for her comfortable jeans - which she was excited to find were _finally_ beginning to fit her hips and behind properly - and a simple black shirt. With a final glance in the mirror, she set off, trying to muster as much of her old Gryffindor courage that she could.

Hermione reflected on her memories as she walked next door to meet Draco. Today was going to be tougher than the previous day. An image of Scabior's leering eyes invaded her mind. Her shoulders shuddered in response. Every fiber of her being wanted to turn around, to run far away from her memories, to run away from the man suffering on the other side of the door.

Before she could make a decision, the door swung open, and Hermione was met with the inquisitorial eyes of Draco. His sharp eyebrow lifted on his forehead.

"Ready, Granger?"

Hermione met his confused glance with one of her own.

Draco rolled his eyes, "For such a small woman, you have the footsteps of an ogre."

"I do not," Hermione huffed back, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Mmm, so I didn't hear you stomp out of your room five minutes ago and stand in front of my door," Draco sarcastically quipped. Hermione's cheeks turned red, a response that she found was becoming annoying familiar.

"Do you want to see my memories or not?" Hermione snapped.

"Lead the way. Unless you were thinking today isn't a good day," Draco said, his voice lowering on the last sentence. While his words were not said kindly, and they lacked much of the emotion Hermione longed to hear again, but, they did not have the typical icy edge she was accustomed to.

"I'm fine," Hermione lied. And with that, she silently led him to the pensieve.

She sighed as she contemplated where to pick up their memories. _Best just to show him everything_ , she thought. If not, he was likely to accuse her of hiding things from him again, and she wanted to avoid Draco's tantrums if at all possible.

When she finally peered up at Draco, he looked surprisingly nervous, almost vulnerable. His outward appearance was still crisp and aristocratic. His shoulders slumped forward just slightly, his hair not as neat as it had been an hour ago. She pictured him frantically running his long fingers through the soft silver tresses.

"Let me know if you want to stop at any point. I won't ask any questions," Hermione whispered as she motioned for him to take her hand.

"Granger," Draco started, his voice dropping a few octaves, "I don't anticipate it will be me who needs to leave. But, I'll extend the same courtesy. No questions or tantrums this time if you need to leave...I promise." Draco grabbed her hand, and without another word, the two were transported into the deepest parts of Hermione's memories.

It was strange being back in the Labyrinth again. While the pensieve made everything foggy, dreamlike, the fear that tickled his senses was just as real as his time in Hermione's memory before.

Hermione started walking after their dream forms, and Draco silently followed. It wasn't long, however, before the silence broke, giving way to a battle between the pair. Draco watched impassively as his dream version lashed out at the broken, and tired Hermione, lifting her up the Labyrinth wall and towering over her.

From beside him, the real Hermione had her arms folded across her chest, her eyes never leaving the dream version of himself. She was analyzing him.

"Would you stop doing that?"

The real Hermione raised an eyebrow up, questioning him without words.

"Watching me in your memory like I'm some sort of specimen. It's unnerving," Draco whispered through gritted teeth.

"Worry about yourself Malfoy, and keep watching," Hermione whispered back calmly, making no motion to stop picking apart his every move in the dream with her calculating eyes.

_"You don't think I'm not in just as much fucking pain as you are, princess?" Draco sneered, "Trust me- "_

Draco watched, secretly impressed by Hermione's strength as she yelled back at him in a way most people did not have the nerve to.

_"Good. I'm glad you're in pain. You deserve every ounce of it. You've been nothing but an arse your whole life, and I'm glad you finally got to feel pain for all of your rotten decisions. Those people back there, they didn't...They don't deserve to be here. Them, I would trust, but you...I will never trust you."_

_"Don't you ever tell me I deserved this, do you understand me?"_

_"That mark on your arm says otherwise," The memory of Hermione sneered back in a venomous way that would have made Salazar Slytherin himself proud._

Draco watched, horror-struck as the pair separated. He rounded on Hermione, "Why would we do something so stupid?"  
  
Hermione let out a small laugh. "Draco, didn't you hear us? We still loathed each other. Nothing changed there, but I think, without realizing it we had both actually changed enormously. We were just judging each other on the information we had prior to the Labyrinth. From here, I don't know where you went, but I'll bring us to the moment where we joined each other again a few hours later."

Hermione realized she almost enjoyed analyzing the situation as it unfolded before her again, more so than she had the day before. Truthfully, it was helpful to see this all again, so that she could see the small moments she missed before. Flashes of hurt in Draco's eyes that she was too stubborn to see, or the fear that radiated off both of them in a palpable way.

The memory around Draco and Hermione swirled, and when they emerged from the smoke, Hermione was sitting, hunched over a body in a pool of blood, everyone she had ever loved dead around her.

She gasped. She hadn't realized the memory would show the scene properly, the way she had witnessed it in her own mind. The mirror stood ominously in front of her, but her memory form took no notice. She was sobbing uncontrollably over the dead bodies of her parents. Draco's mouth hung open slightly at the carnage. The sight of blood was overwhelming, and yet, not enough that he did not follow his own ghost when it walked closer to the mirror.

Because he was so enthralled by seeing his own pained face in the memory, Draco had not realized the blood and bodies had eventually disappeared from the ground around him. In Hermione's memory, she walked up to him and pulled him from whatever vision the mirror had forced him to witness.

"What is this?" Draco whispered, confused by the lack of context.

"Much like the Mirror of Erised, this mirror showed us our worst fears," Hermione croaked out. She was still shaken by the images of her loved ones all dead. It still all felt too _real._

"What did I see? When you pulled me from the mirror?"

"You saw your father, and yourself. "

Had Draco seen Lucius in the mirror? Nowhere in the memory could he see what his memory had witnessed. _What exactly had happened_? To his knowledge, though he feared his father, it was not his _worst_ fear.

Anticipating Draco's next question, Hermione spoke again. "You will explain what you saw in a later memory, and I think it's best if you hear it from yourself," Hermione said decisively. She left Draco no room to negotiate this matter as the memory flashed forward.

This next scene was nearly as horrible as the last, Draco thought as he watched the vile actions of the snatchers appear in the memory.

Draco watched as Scabior took control of Hermione, nearly forcing her to kill herself. Next, he had Hermione start to undress, and Draco watched the moment her hand lifted under her torn shirt, and her small fingers slowly started to unbutton her jeans. Without meaning to, he took a step back and turned his face. He did not want to see where this was going. All of a sudden, he heard the shattering of glass, and the next flurry of events unfolded before his eyes in a flash.

Before he could process the events, Scabior lay dead before him, and his mirror image walked over to Hermione. Draco saw the concern etched clearly on his face, and his tone betrayed his normal coolness. He had been angry. That was clear in his eyes, but not at Hermione. No, he cared about her wellbeing, visibly so. When his mask was down, and when they were done screaming at each other, he could start to see the beginnings of understanding. Perhaps not trust, but he could see how far their relationship had come in such a small amount of time.

Taking a step forward, he watched another intense discussion erupt between the tumultuous, though warming, pair. This time, his words sounded less heartless.

_"What do you want to hear Granger? That I got thrown in here because I wanted to be some bleeding heart martyr? That I refused to follow the Dark Lord's orders? You are right Hermione, I am not a good man. Maybe I did deserve this. But please...don't you ever question my trustworthiness again. I believe I've more than proven myself. Now, are you coming or not?_

_"Trust isn't a right Malfoy... you have to earn it."_

Hermione's own words reverberated through her... _You have to earn it_. Just as she had to earn his trust now, despite all they had already been through. She pondered for a moment. Was she doing a proper job of that?

Their memories worked to summon the portkey, albeit, with some unnecessary bickering. As the pair in the memory grabbed the portkey, the Pensieve shifted, and Draco and Hermione were transported to a new location. Around him, Draco could not tell if the Pensieve was causing the world to be grey, or if the fog that was emanating from the forest that now surrounded them was real.

"It's a mirror world," Hermione said, her voice breaking the stillness of the forest. "Voldemort recreated the Forbidden Forest."

When Hermione fainted in the memory, the world around them went dark. The attic at the cottage materialized around them once again.

The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, both lost in thought. Draco sat on a wooden chair next to the table. He was hunched forward, his elbows resting upon his legs, his head bowed in contemplation.

Hermione was first to break the heavy silence. "You carried me to safety after this," her voice quivered for a moment before she continued. "You found a tree and waited until I woke up," Hermione said softly, but Draco could feel still the underlying admiration behind her words. He could tell that she appreciated his actions. 

Draco glanced at Hermione, who was slumped in the wooden chair facing him. She lightly brushed a stray tear away from her cheek. Draco could see the woman was desperately trying to calm herself down; he could see the memory playing in her eyes on repeat, her loved ones lying bloody and dead all around her.

"Why did I come back for you? Time and time again?" His question was whispered, his deep voice marred with confusion and frustration.

"I don't know," Hermione answered truthfully. "It's a question the Pensieve will never be able to answer, unfortunately. Only you can."

The only logical explanation Draco could come up with was that the Labyrinth _had_ changed him. After today, there was no doubt that Hermione was not making the whole thing up. His own mind had an eerie stillness to it, a peace that he had finally reached. The paranoia, and craziness that had consumed him for weeks was gone; he had found his way off the brink. Begrudgingly, he admitted it had very much to do with the hard work of the Gryffindor sitting beside him.

But, did that mean he could trust her with his life… his sanity? She may not have been lying, but could he trust her and the Order to keep him safe against the Dark Lord?

The moment with Scabior, the moment Hermione almost - it was nearly too disgusting for Draco to think about - he had saved her. He could not remember a time in his life when he had wanted to save a muggle-born, let alone one who was typically so annoying.

Hermione sat silently, observing Draco. His eyes, which only moments before had been swimming with trapped emotion, had once again frozen over. She wanted to reach out, to soothe the dark edges of his thoughts, to reassure him everything would be okay as long as they trusted each other, just as they had once before. From where she was standing, she tentatively reached her hand out to touch Draco's shoulder.

When her fingertips grazed his warm body, he shuddered, quickly pulling away in what appeared to Hermione as disgust. Hermione's heart seized to beat for a moment, and her stomach plummeted as her eyes connected with his; she has pushed too hard too fast. Embarrassed, she whispered out a small apology, pulling her hand away from his retreating form.

"Do you still wish to continue?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Tomorrow," Draco said with finality in his cold voice. "I need time to process this, as you clearly do too," he added, appraising her shivering, melancholy form.

Hermione nodded slowly, wanting to say more, but knowing that her words would be lost on him until he was ready to hear them. Draco turned quickly and gracefully fled the small room, retreating to his only safe space left in the world, his tiny bedroom.

Hermione stayed for a few more moments, trying to get the image of Scabior out of her mind. Had Draco not been there, had he not understood what she was trying to do… her body convulsed, and she felt the bile rise unwelcomed up the back of her throat.

Hermione blinked to keep back the tears forming in her eyes. If she sat here too long, she knew she would get stuck in her own mind. Not wanting to waste any more time thinking about her past, she started walking to the kitchen hoping to find her friends.

The kitchen was bustling with movement when she entered, which only served to put her senses on edge. Remus and Arthur were standing over a small bag, and Molly was arguing with them.

"Are you sure you don't want to take more food?" Molly pressed, her tone clearly indicating she believed they would be foolish not to heed her advice.

Arthur sighed. "But we'll only be gone a fe-"

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked inquisitively. Her copper eyes narrowed as she analyzed the situation. Everyone was on edge, and the fear in the air was palpable, soaking into Hermione's skin.

"We may have a lead on the whereabouts of Luna," Arthur muttered, as he continued packing his bag. Hermione watched Molly sneak an extra piece of bread into the bag while he was not looking.

Hermione stood up taller and took a step forward with haste. "When do we leave?"

Arthur and Remus stopped dead in their tracks, each giving the other a knowing, slow stare.

"Dear," Molly said kindly, "Only Remus and Arthur are needed this time."

Arthur nodded in agreement, his feet shuffling against the creaky floor as he moved closer to Molly and gave her a sorrow-filled smile. "We should only be gone for two days or so. Luna was spotted by the resistance at a processing camp. Voldemort has a few set up around the country, where he keeps prisoners before deciding what should be done with them. It also helps them keep the location of the Labyrinth hidden," Arthur explained.

"Where are the others?" Hermione said, noticing suddenly how quiet the rest of the house was. Where had her friends gone? Now that she thought of it, she hadn't seen them in at least a day, possibly longer.

"Ron, Harry, and Ginny are following a lead on a possible Horcrux. They will be back by nightfall."

Hermione's heart sank. For the first time since returning she could see just how far removed she had become from her old life. Normally, Harry and Ron ran to her first, for every single detail of their drama-filled lives. And yet, this time, when it was crucial to everyone's very survival, they had not felt as though they could lean on her. A sadness pulled her thin shoulders forward slightly.

"And what am I to do while I wait?" Hermione said with frustration. Feeling useless was not one of her strong points.

"Keep working with Draco, and perhaps search for some more answers regarding the Horcrux," Remus said with a shrug. "We know from our research that the artifact does not belong to the founders, and it is not another living creature, thankfully."

"Well that certainly narrows it down," Hermione replied bitterly, her tone reminding herself of one used by a devilishly handsome, grey-eyed man.

Remus sighed, "It's just too dangerous for you to be seen out right now. You're a highly wanted target, and we can't risk losing you again. Your friends love and care about you - they are not abandoning you. Quite the opposite, in fact. We will talk about this when we get back, Hermione." Remus gave Hermione's shoulder a tight squeeze that she was sure was meant to be reassuring but did nothing of the sort. Arthur gave Molly a long hug before nodding towards Remus. Both men departed from the room with a small popping noise.

For the first time in her life, Hermione sulked as she made her way towards the library, unexcited with the prospect of having to spend another day cooped up in the cottage while the others risked their lives.

* * *

When Draco banged on Hermione's door the next morning, she had simply rolled over in bed, pretending to ignore the incessant knocking. The prior night her dreams all centered around Kingsley, his decaying, bloodied body wrapping around her own. She awoke crying more than once, knowing she was not ready to relive the memories of the Labyrinth with Draco.

For his part, Draco had huffed away angrily, frustrated with himself more than anything. He hated to push her, to seem so desperate and impatient, but that's exactly what he was.

After another day of avoiding everyone, trapped in her repetitive, toxic thoughts, Hermione emerged from her bedroom. Though she was still feeling slightly wary of the outside world, she knew that replaying history was not going to help her current situation.

After checking in with Harry and Ginny - there had been no word from Arthur or Remus yet, nor had they had any luck finding the Horcrux - Hermione went upstairs to knock on Draco's door. His face appeared almost instantly.

"You ready?" She said impatiently, as though she had not just avoided him for days.

Draco eagerly nodded, choosing to ignore her rude tone. Hermione scrutinized him for a moment, observing his wet hair, and the droplets of water running down his face. She removed her wand from her pocket, pointing it directly at his head.

"Woah what do you think-" But before Draco could finish the sentence, a warm airlifted his hair, instantly drying it.

"You're welcome," she smirked, turning before he could respond.

Only when they were finally standing in front of the Pensieve did Draco notice the dark bags under Hermione's eyes, a sign the sleepless nights were taking a toll on her. Draco bit the inside of his cheek to keep from commenting on it. He needed to see these memories, and he did not want to trigger anything in Hermione that would halt their progress.

When the pair entered the memories this time, Draco found that he felt more confident. He no longer cared very much if Hermione caught him analyzing the memory too carefully. His facial expressions were an open book, and frankly, it felt refreshing. Particularly, because as he watched the memory of himself, he could barely gauge what his past self had been thinking. _Damn pure-blooded upbringing_ , Draco thought bitterly.

Suddenly, the cry of a werewolf brought him out of his thoughts, and he watched their memories quickly seek refuge in a tall tree nearby.

It didn't take him long to realize Hermione was falling behind, and she looked absolutely petrified as she dangled from the branches.

" _You're fucking slow Granger. Afraid of heights?" His memory seethed, before reaching down a hand to help her up._   
  
Seeing how gentle he was when he helped her up branch by branch, was shocking. As the memory progressed, with the arrival of Fenrir and the violent end he reached, choking on his own blood, Draco was stunned.

"We had to perform spells backward? What kind of sick joke is this place," Draco shook his head, as he and Hermione traveled through the forest behind their ghostly images. "And how could you perform magic so easily backward?" He said with slight awe in his voice.

"I… I don't know. I work well under pressure I guess," Hermione shrugged, a bit embarrassed at his near praise of her abilities. They reached the edge of the forest and abruptly stopped and listened to the pair speaking.

_"Is that...is that the oaf's hut?"_

_"Hagrid's hut," Hermione hissed out in correction. "Come on then!"_

The two followed the memory all the way to the hut, and Draco laughed out in surprise at the sight of the map laid out on the table, just moments before his memory did the same. Hermione giggled. The man next to her really could be the same as she remembered him to be in the Labyrinth.

_Draco grinned in the memory, letting out a small laugh of disbelief. "It's a map... and a pretty damn good one at that. Here set it down let's have a closer look."_

Draco watched as he walked up behind Hermione, brushing against her small frame. The action surprised him. Normally, he was not a fan of casual touches, it was simply not something he was used to. The pair observed the map for a while longer, discerning the levels, and where they could possibly be lost within the prison. He took a step closer to the memory to hear the softly spoken words between them.

_"Malfoy, you're dead on your feet. You're no good to me this tired. I'll ward the cabin for the night if it makes you feel better, but we really should sleep before setting off," Hermione said as she lifted her wand and set to work._

_"Wards are difficult enough, and here you are doing them backward." Draco scoffed, though admittedly he was fascinated by the woman in front of him. "So tell me...Do you have a life?"_

He chuckled, looking down at the top of Hermione's head. "That question is still relevant, by the way."   
  
Hermione rolled her eyes."Pay attention," she whispered, barely able to contain her amusement. They turned back to watch the memory unfold.

" _You were looking for Horcruxes right?" Draco stated._

_In the memory, Hermione's disbelieving eyes shot up to meet his."You know what a Horcrux is?"_

_"My father was one of the few who Voldemort trusted enough to know. It's how we ended up with the diary." Bitterness crept into Draco's voice_

_"At the last level, with the mirror, you mentioned... well... you mentioned seeing your father?"_

_"What did you see? When I walked over to you, you were crying." Draco challenged back._ Draco knew this was one of his tactics for avoiding speaking about himself, outright deflection of the question. It was only at this moment when he himself wanted to know the answer that he realized how frustrating it was.

" _My worst fear is failing those I love... that I lose them because of my own inability to protect them," Hermione whispered her honest response._

_"I saw my father in the mirror," The words spilled from Draco's mouth before he could stop himself. "I saw myself becoming my father. I... I killed a muggle. Didn't even flinch."_

Hermione heard Draco let out a sharp breath from beside her, and when she took a quick glance at him, his eyebrows were raised beneath his silver hair, his eyes wide with shock. His long fingers were clenched into a tight fist by his side.

_"Draco, you are arrogant and spoiled...and quite frankly you are many awful things, but you are not evil. You are not heartless," Hermione paused before continuing, looking into Draco's eyes. "You are not Lucius, and I don't think you ever could be."_

The pair laid down, quite close to one another, Draco noted with outright surprise. He kneeled next to their forms to hear the last whispered words between the pair.

_"Draco?"_

_"Mm," came his sleep-deprived reply._

_"Thank you."_

And with that, the Pensieve spiraled around them, a grey fog enveloping them until Draco felt the room in the cottage materialize around him.

Much like their previous meetings, Draco and Hermione sat in silence, both not willing or able to break the silence.

"Well, that was… telling," Draco muttered. He leaned back in his wooden chair and rubbed his fingers across his forehead. "Merlin this is frustrating," he growled. Though it was a sound that Hermione should have feared, it felt oddly comforting. It held emotion of a sort she had not heard from him in a long time.

"What's frustrating you?" Hermione questioned, deciding she did not care if she pushed him too far. At this point, she could tell he was too invested in their meetings to back out now.

"Much of the same. I can see what I did through your eyes, but there is no why. I don't know why I do the things I do, and because I acted like a fucking icicle most of the time, it's nearly impossible to read my thoughts."

Hermione laughed despite the tense situation. "Well at least we both agree on one thing, you're an absolute nightmare to read."

Draco smirked slightly before falling silent again for a few more minutes. Just as Hermione was about to leave the room, to leave him to his thoughts, he asked another question. "Did you mean what you said? About me not being like my father?

Without hesitation, Hermione responded. "Absolutely. You're not Lucius. You have done so much to prove this. You're not a bad man, Draco. You were raised in a poor situation, but that doesn't mean your heart is."

Draco blushed and quickly changed topics, so he would not have to respond to her emotional words. "Do we ever find out who the map belonged to?"

Hermione's chest tightened, and she nodded slowly. "Kingsley Shacklebolt. He found a way inside the Labyrinth, to save us. In fact, he helped open our prison doors, but then he didn't make it." Hermione shuddered as she finished the sentence. Most nights, she could still feel his blood on her skin, the soft, warm insides that had coated her body as she fell into his remains.

Draco wondered which part of her words had spawned such a painful memory. Was she that close to Kingsley? Or was it something more? 

"Hermione," Draco whispered. Hearing her name from his lips spurred a weightless feeling in her stomach. "If you need me, you know where to find me. Same time tomorrow?"

She simply nodded. As his lean form retreated the room, Hermione was left wondering what it was about this particular memory that had such an effect on his attitude towards her.

* * *

When Draco awoke the next morning, he did not even bother to knock on Hermione's door, he simply marched down to the library, where he saw her curled up on the couch, her face pulled in concentration. As he had not heard her return to her room last night, nor did he hear her cries, he made the educated guess that she had not left the cottage library- a guess that had proved to be correct.

"You're very predictable you know," Draco casually stated from the doorway, breaking Hermione out of her trance. "It's a wonder no one was able to catch you sooner."

"I'll have you know I can be extremely unpredictable, Malfoy," Hermione huffed, thinking back to her days on the run with Harry and Ron.

"Says the woman who spent the better part of the last year as a prisoner of war," Draco rolled his eyes at her apparent pride. _And here I was starting to think Gryffindor's weren't all delusional…_ "Are you ever not in the library?"

Hermione opened her mouth to fight back but softened when she noticed his small grin. Truthfully, all the times Draco had needed to find her, she had been here, curled up on the leather couch with a large book in her lap. Completely predictable.

"No, I suppose you are correct," Hermione quipped, a shy smirk tugging at her lips. Hermione appraised Draco, seeing the unanswered questions reflecting in his icy orbs. "So what can I help you with?"

"It's about the Labyrinth," Draco started in a clinical, business-like tone, as though he were speaking of a new entrepreneur prospect. "Did I ever explain why my father betrayed his family?"

Hermione paused for a moment, taken aback at his forward question. "Y-Yes and no. You explained it later on in my memories, although it was brief… and the circumstances around it were… difficult," Hermione whispered, thinking back to Draco's crying form, hovered over his mother's grave as he spoke of the broken Malfoy family. "Would you like me to explain it to you now, or would you like to hear it in your own words, later on?" Hermione questioned, knowing it was only fair that she give him the choice.

Draco debated internally for a moment before shaking his head. "I can wait."

"Can I ask what made you think of this question?" Hermione shrewdly inquired, still analyzing his every move as though to crack some secret code.

Draco shrugged, finally sitting on the couch beside her. "It's hard not to think when I have so much time to do so," he explained. Hermione was again taken aback by how forthcoming he was being. 

"I know what you mean," Hermione glanced at him. "Everyone is off on missions, and I'm stuck here. I feel quite worthless sometimes," she admitted, spurred on by Draco's honesty. "You know you're always welcome to join me in reading," Hermione suggested, trying, and failing, to mirror Draco's apathetic tone. "I could use the help," she said, waving her hand towards the ever-growing stack of books.

Draco observed the titles of the books, gently picking a frail-looking piece of parchment up off the coffee table. "You're looking for Horcruxes?'

Hermione nodded. "When you were in the Labyrinth you mentioned that you and your father were a few of the death eaters who were aware of how Voldemort had survived?"

Draco unconsciously ran a hand through his silver locks. "You have to understand, the Dark Lord is very untrusting. No one, except for maybe my aunt, is aware of much. Me even less so now…" Draco bitterly noted. "The Dark Lord keeps his past, present, and future heavily guarded. I have limited knowledge of Horcruxes. My father may have more, as he was privy to the diary."

"It's what is making this all so difficult," Hermione said in agreement. "How do you find a man's most prized treasures, objects so central to his life that he trusts them with his literal soul?"

Draco picked through the books again, carefully observing each title. "I do know one thing, you're never going to find the answers in these books."

"And how do you know that?" Hermione huffed, almost offended that he would speak about her books in such a way.

"Feel them," Draco placed his open palm on one of the books. "These are not books with traces of dark magic on them. You won't find much here that will help you, because no dark wizard before you has thought them useful," Draco said matter of factly. He handed her the book, and Hermione put her palm on it. She thought back to when she had handled the Horcruxes in the past. While not obvious, they had leaked the essence of dark magic. They hummed with it, as though forever cursed. She threw down the book, defeated.

"If I were you," Draco said thoughtfully, "I would look at the things the Dark Lord is keeping hidden. No one knows much about his past."

"How do you go looking into the past of someone you don't know?" Hermione again huffed. It was her turn to feel frustrated.

"Well, the library isn't the best place to start this time," Draco smirked at the sour look on Hermione's face. "Not everything can be found in a book."

"Well, the world would be a better place if it could," Hermione muttered darkly. "Harry saw pieces of Voldemort's past. Dumbledore showed him."

"The Dark Lord keeps his past hidden from his followers. Seeing how little he trusts even his most loyal supporters, perhaps the Horcrux is from a happy childhood memory? Some moment of importance?"

Hermione bit her lip as she thought and shook her head slightly. "Voldemort didn't have happy memories as a child. He was at an orphanage most of his life. It's one of the reasons he had such an affinity for the founders of Hogwarts."

Draco sighed, thinking of his own life and the small number of happy memories he had. Even when his life seemed miserable at the manor, it made the small glimpses of happiness he experienced all the more special. "Perhaps there is some knowledge you are missing about the orphanage. Everyone has at least one happy memory, and the fewer you have, the more valuable they become." Draco shrugged and attempted to ignore the moment Hermione gave him a thoughtful stare beneath her long eyelashes.

Hermione reopened the book that she had been reading. "When Harry gets back I'll speak with him. Maybe we can try to access the memory Dumbledore has of Tom Riddle as a child at the orphanage?"

"We?" Draco scoffed.

"Yes. You're a part of this. Now, pick up a book and get to work," Hermione said sternly. Were it not for Draco seeing the small smile that graced her dainty features, he would have mistaken her for being peeved. Instead, he let out of a small smirk himself, happy to have gained her trust, at least in this matter. He pulled a book out of the stack and started reading beside the brilliant witch.

* * *

Draco's eyes fluttered open, and then he quickly shut them again. _It can't be,_ he groaned inwardly. He reached his hand towards his chest out of habit, checking to see if his clothes were still in place. Thankfully, they were, and he felt it safe to open his eyes again. It was awkward to awake beside Hermione. Ironically, Draco had no recollection of falling asleep.

His eyes wandered down to the sleeping woman beside him. Nestled amongst the books and the parchment, Hermione was still sleeping soundly, a feat he did not think she often achieved. Her hair was splayed out across the top of the sofa in long waves, and her body was curled close to his own. Her body radiated a warmth that went beyond temperature. She truly looked peaceful, inviting, Draco thought, and his lips formed a deep frown. Draco lifted his body slowly and noticed his neck was cramped from the odd angle it must have been positioned in during the night.

As Draco looked down at Hermione once more, the weightless feeling that filled his stomach was unusual. The heat that pooled in his groin was even more unwelcome, and it took every ounce of his control not to groan in disgust. Draco quietly finished removing himself from the couch, trying not to disturb the sleeping witch. Not that he cared if he woke her, but, this was one awkward situation he wanted to avoid. Though he was slightly more accustomed to her, the gap in his memory still made it difficult for him to understand the depths of their relationship. To him, it was almost as strange as if Hermione had awoken next to him in the Slytherin dungeons during their time at Hogwarts. His _physical_ reactions to her were even more peculiar.

Damn his memory, and the predicament he was in. The moment made him so uneasy, that he failed to seek out Hermione for the rest of the day, choosing to ignore his desire to see her, and her memories.

Later that night, when Draco's ego had finally recovered from the morning intrusion, he arrived in the library only to find that Hermione's usual spot on the worn leather couch was empty. An unsettled feeling grew in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth felt dry. Why did he feel nervous? He left the room in more of a hurry than he had intended and ran towards the kitchen. Again, that was empty too. The uncomfortable feeling in his stomach grew. Where was everyone?

It was not until he passed the living room that he heard the voices, and his heart calmed a fraction.

Draco stood in the doorway, feeling much like a ghost. Not one member of the Order looked up at him as he casually glided through the room. The golden trio was embroiled in what looked like an intense battle amongst themselves, and Ginny sat on the couch across the room, lost in her own thoughts.

"Haven't made it to the adult's table yet?" Draco whispered to Ginny, taking a seat next to her on the couch.

She shot him a glare, as Malfoy smirked, knowing he had hit a nerve. "Now is not the time Malfoy… And I'll have you know I am very much an _adult_ member of the Order."

"Mhm," Draco murmured skeptically, "Which is exactly why you are sitting here alone, while the others make plans without you."

Ginny ignored his smug grin, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he had bothered her. She chose instead to keep looking forward.

The two stared at the golden trio as they sat around the small table, angrily whispering amongst themselves. Hermione's brow was furrowed in concentration. Harry was speaking passionately about something, just dancing on the edge of anger. And Ron… Well, Ron looked as though he had just swallowed a spider.

"You care for her," Ginny whispered beside Draco, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"What makes you say that?" Draco asked, refusing to answer her question. Truthfully, he knew there was a small part of him that was growing exceedingly protective of the woman, particularly after witnessing all she had done for him in the Labyrinth. The fragile trust that had flourished into something strong, meant a great deal to him.

"Well for starters, you look as though you would like to kill Harry and Ron," Ginny quipped.

"I've always looked at them like that. They make me ill." Draco sneered, though the normal malice in his tone was weak compared to his usual iciness.

"Mmhm," Ginny said, as she observed his unwavering stare at Hermione. "You also haven't let her out of your sight. Every time I see you, you're with her, or looking for her."

"Why do you care so much?" Draco snapped, rolling his eyes as he turned toward Ginny. "Shouldn't you be on your brother's side anyway? The bugger fucking hates that she's been helping me."

Ginny waved her hand and brushed off Draco's suggestion. "I love them both, but they are not right for each other. Ron needs a woman to take care of him, and frankly, Hermione is too independent to have someone be so reliant on her. Hermione is my best friend. I love her dearly, and I trust her judgment. I don't know what happened to you both in the Labyrinth, but whatever it was, whatever you did for her, it meant enough that she is willing to fight for you at the risk of losing her best friends."

"You're perceptive," Draco said begrudgingly.

"Thank-"

"For a Weaslette," He finished.

It was Ginny's turn to roll her eyes. "You're a git. But if there is one thing I've learned about Hermione, it's that she never gives up on what she wants. She's also never wrong about people. It's part of what makes her so incredible...and annoying," Ginny mused. "But hurt her in any way, any at all, and I swear on my mum's life that you will not live to see another moment."

From the stern look she gave him, Draco had no doubt in his mind that she was not bluffing. The small Weasley looked shockingly menacing when her eyebrows narrowed as they were, and her jaw clenched.

"I have no intention of being with her, if that's what you're getting at," Draco vehemently denied her implied accusation. "I admit that she's helped me, more so than I would have ever thought possible, but I don't _like_ her. She's a means to an end," He mumbled cooly.

"Oh that's rubb-"

Suddenly, Harry stood abruptly from the table. "We're wasting time!" He yelled, cutting off Ginny's sentence. "They're out there and they could need us."

"Or we could be walking into a trap!" Hermione yelled back. "Harry we need you alive. You can't always go headfirst into danger without thinking of the consequences. If you die, all of this will have been for nothing!" Hermione said back, in a tone that was only a touch less angry than Harry's.

"This will still be for nothing if the people I care about are dead!" Harry angrily yelled.

Hermione closed her eyes. Her delicate fingers massaged her temples. Harry had a point.

"Let's contact Balise - see if he knows anything. _Only then_ will I even consider going out to find them." The three stood from the table as Hermione issued this ultimatum.

As they stood, Harry and Ron both glared at Draco across the room.

"What are you doing here, Ferret," Ron growled. Hermione grabbed his arm, knowing that his temper could not be trusted. "You have no damn right to be here!"

"Leave it alone for tonight Ron, there is too much going on for me to deal with a pissing contest too," Hermione coldly interjected. Harry looked back and forth between Draco and Hermione and saw how his best friend was physically protecting Draco from Ron's ill-temper.

Harry let out a large breath, meeting Ginny's slightly wide eyes. Draco eyebrows lifted on his face as he saw the moment scarhead and the redheaded witch reached some unspoken agreement.

"Ron," Harry spoke with authority, "Let's go contact Blaise." He gave Hermione a small nod, almost as if giving her permission to stay behind, and walked out of the room, dragging a seething Ron by the elbow.

Draco let out a breath he did not realize he was holding and met Hermione's gaze. The thin shoulders she usually held up with poise, were hunched forward, the burden they were holding evident.

"What's going on?" Draco inquired.

"Arthur and Remus were on a mission to retrieve a member of the Order. It should have been simple. But, they haven't returned back yet," Hermione's voice shook.

"And you lot want to go after them, I'm assuming?" Draco said, his thoughts traveled back to the dangerously stupid plans the trio had made before in the name of honor.

"Eventually. I am hoping they return in the next day or so, but in the meantime, they will contact Blaise and we just need to wait," Hermione shrugged her shoulders in defeat. " I'm going to continue getting work done in the library. I hate feeling useless," Hermione said, as she turned her back on Ginny and Draco and hurried out of the room.

Draco was observant enough to recognize that Hermione wanted to be alone, and so, he walked up the stairs to spend another night in the confines of his room.

* * *

The next day was no easier for Hermione. Her head was already pounding, despite the fact that the fight she was having with Ron was nowhere near ending. She truly could understand his frustration that his father was missing. And maybe she could understand the tension that existed between them after their falling out. But, she could not for the life of her understand how she had ever been attracted to this thick-headed, temperamental, immature asshole. She huffed out an angry breath and narrowed her eyes at the red-headed man in front of her.

"But you were _mine-_ "

"I was never _yours_. I am no one's to own!" Hermione shrieked back, offended that Ron would ever think he could lay claim over her. "I'm sorry I don't want you, I truly am, but that's no reason to attack me for-"

Draco sighed as he listened to the screaming match between Hermione and the weasel. This had been going on for the last half hour, and no progress was made. They kept making the same arguments, over and over. If someone were to ask his opinion, he would rate this as one of the most boring fights he'd ever witnessed. No blood, no tears. Truly, Gryffindor's could not do anything properly.

"So you'll fuck the Death Eater, but you won't make time for me." Ron maliciously cut her off.

"Ronald Weasley I have done no such-"

"Now, that's not very nice," Draco interrupted, making his presence known as he decided he could no longer witness the fight. The anger on Hermione's behalf that settled in his stomach was unwelcomed and peculiar, but he ignored it for the time being.

"Weasle, bugger off, your whining is giving me a headache," Draco jeered from where he was leaning against the doorframe.

"I was here first, ferret" Ron turned menacingly on the blonde boy.

"And now I'm here," Draco nonchalantly answered, with a condescending smirk. "Granger and I have a bit to talk about, and frankly, she looks like she'd much rather deal with me than you at the moment." He gracefully waltzed into the room, placing himself next to Hermione so their shoulders were almost touching.

Hermione looked at Draco with a mix of trepidation and confusion. Why was he choosing now to defend her?

Ron's face turned a deep shade of purple, and for a moment, Hermione was certain he might actually explode. Without another word, he turned and angrily stalked out of the room.

"Ron," Hermione called after his retreating form. Her heart hurt. Though she did not have feelings for Ron, he had been her best friend for years, a man whom at one point in her life she did picture herself growing old with. She hung her head for a moment, deciding whether or not to run after him. There was unlikely to be anything she could say to mend their friendship.

"Do you always worry about what others think?" Draco asked, a slight sneer creeping onto his lips. He was uncertain why he felt so annoyed with her at this moment. It's not like he hadn't heard the Weasel and Granger fight before… hell, he was certain everything in Hogwarts had, both living and dead. It's not like he was expecting her to be grateful, was he?

"I don't care what others think about me. But, unlike you, I do care about whether I have hurt others or not," Hermione sniffed back, her voice raising an octave as she spewed the words out.

"Sounds exhausting," Draco rolled his eyes, before sending a knowing glance in her direction. He had no memories to support his knowledge, but as he looked at her, the flush on her cheeks, the stiffness to her jaw, the subtle tapping of her foot, he knew this is what an irritated Hermione looked like. "I sense you're angry. Something wrong princess?"

Hermione exhaled, trying to calm herself against Draco's antics.

"Don't call me that."

"You allowed me to in the Labyrinth…. Why shouldn't I now?"

"Because I dislike it greatly," Hermione stressed through gritted teeth.

"That's a shame."

"What do you want, Draco," Hermione groaned, more impatient with him than she normally was. Draco noticed her frustration. _Is this really because I interrupted them?_

"I want to go back in," Draco demanded.

"Now?"

"Yes."

"I don't know if I can…"

Draco held up his hand, knowing that she was too weary to go back quite so soon. "So then don't take me back to the Labyrinth."

"What do you mean?"

"We have a long history. A history, I admit, in which I was an asshole to you. But there must have been something... Some moment that made you feel you could trust me. And I don't think it started in the Labyrinth. Earlier, you said that you felt I had good in me. I want to see it through your eyes."

Hermione thought back to the moment she realized Draco was in over his head, that he was not black and white, but grey. "You don't know what you're asking for…" she shuddered.

Draco paused for a moment, trying to decipher the pain that seeped its way into her golden eyes. More pain. How could the moment to show his good side cause her pain? He sighed, not wanting to push her after the sacrifice she was making. "I may never know why I kept going back for you, but this… this I can try to understand about myself. I feel like there is so little that I can," Draco's voice trailed off, and he shook his head slightly to rid his face of any lingering emotion.

Hermione closed her eyes. What Draco was asking was not unreasonable, and the logical part of her brain knew it would shed some light on her attitude towards him. And yet… the memory to prove his hidden aversion to violence was more brutal than any of the moments she had shared with him in the Labyrinth. "What you're asking of me… it is more difficult than the Labyrinth. But, it is something I came to terms with long ago. I've had time to process it, but, that doesn't make it any less difficult." Hermione half spoke to herself, talking her brain into lifting the mental block and share this personal memory.

"Then let me go alone. Just give me the memory and I can go," Draco said, slightly embarrassed by the pleading tone he could hear in his normally crisp tone. If only his father could see him now, he thought bitterly, begging a muggle-born witch.

Hermione released a low breath and rubbed her temples. "I don't feel comfortable letting you go alone. Besides, I don't think you should have a wand…"

Draco let out a low growl. "You want me to trust you, but you don't trust me! I need to see the memories, Granger."

"I trust you, I just…" Hermione paused. "I want to know how you react to the memories, to gauge how you are feeling. What if you see something that upsets you, and then you have the wand-"

"What the fuck do you think I'm going to do? Run away? Hurt you? I bloody well can't leave, and you're the only one who can show me what I need to know," Draco nearly yelled.

"Well we both aren't exactly in a stable mental place yet, now are we?" Hermione snipped back, the molten copper in her eyes growing fiery with the intensity of her gaze. Draco couldn't help but be captivated by the raw passion that radiated off of her, even when he disagreed with her words. "You're unpredictable to me. Remember our deal, only when you see all the memories will I give you a wand. You agreed to that, and I'm not ready to change my mind. Now do you want to see the memory or not?" Hermione huffed. Draco, though clearly still frustrated, nodded his head, not trusting himself to speak. She was offering him what he wanted, and at the moment, that would have to suffice.

After a short walk up to the attic, Draco watched Hermione pull three wispy blue strands from her head and drop them into the silvery liquid.

"Draco, if you need to leave -"

Draco held up his hand as he took a step toward her. "We are past that, Granger. Now, show me."

No more words were spoken between the pair, and Hermione anxiously pulled them into her memories.

The first seemed insignificant to Draco. It was a moment of him walking down the hall at Hogwarts during what looked like his fifth year. His hair was neatly combed, and his arrogant smile shone as he whispered into Pansy's ear. Hermione walked past him swiftly, but there was a brief moment where their eyes met. Draco sneered but chose to refocus his attention back to Pansy instead of saying anything.

"I remember this," Draco whispered to Hermione as he saw the brief moment in her memory when Draco leaned down to kiss Pansy. "Why are you showing me this?"

"This was one of the final days of our fifth year," Hermione chimed in. "This is the last time I saw you look so…" Hermione paused. She wanted to say handsome because that's truly how he looked in that moment, strong and elegant as he was, but she knew Draco would not appreciate the comment. "...confident. Healthy perhaps."

The Pensieve swirled around them. The next memory was what he presumed was his first night of their sixth year. This, he had no recollection of. In her memory, Hermione was sitting with the weasel in the Great Hall, and he wondered where Scarface was. He followed her eyes and spotted himself at the Slytherin table. Though all his friends were enjoying the feast, Draco did not appear to be. He was skinny and pale, and his eyes looked wide upon his face due to the heavy bags dragging them down. Something had clearly changed over the summer.

"I believe this is shortly after you took the mark, shortly after Voldemort tasked you with killing Dumbledore," Hermione commented.   
  
Draco did not get a moment to speak before the memory changed once again. Once again, the memory was unfamiliar to him.

Hermione was sitting in the library, her nose buried in a book. From the stacks behind her, there was a loud bang, and Draco watched as an especially heavy book was sent flying across the library floor.

" _Bloody fucking hell," A voice muttered from behind the bookcase. At this point, Hermione looked up from her book just in time to see a sickly looking Draco walk forward to pick up the book. Their eyes met, and the Draco of Hermione's memory unleashed his fiercest sneer._

" _What are you doing here mudblood?"_

" _I belong here, just as much as you," Hermione responded with a shrug. His words seemed to have little effect on her at that point, and she unabashedly looked him up and down, analyzing his thinning form and worried eyes. "You're not going to find what you're looking for in that book, by the way. Those charms are useless in this castle, as there are enchantments in place to prevent them from being cast," Hermione said in her most condescending tone._

_Draco's eyes softened for a moment, and true fear replaced any anger that had been there previously. "Stay out of this, Granger, you don't know what you're getting involved in."_

From beside him, the real Hermione spoke out. "I could see your unwillingness, even then. You were tasked with something awful and you did not want to complete it. I knew you had an idea that was the wrong book, it would have been quite obvious to someone as smart as yourself, but I don't think you cared. You took so long to discover a way to kill Dumbledore because secretly, you had no interest in doing so." Draco nodded slowly, still not understanding how this led the woman to put her trust in him.

The memory faded, and next they were standing in a room that Draco knew well, the parlor at Malfoy Manor. The awful scream that echoed off the walls, however, was unknown to him. It sounded like an animal was being slaughtered like something was dying a most painful death. When he looked on the ground, he saw the source of the dreadful noise, and his heart stopped.

Hermione was writhing on the ground under his Aunt, who was carving letters into her arm with her most prized cursed knife. Blood seeped into the wooden floor. Standing over this bloody scene, he saw his image, looking skeletal and broken. His pale skin looked nearly translucent, but his eyes did not leave Hermione's as she was tortured. He stood and watched for another few minutes, waiting for the moment when Hermione's purpose with this memory would become clear.

"Why aren't I _doing_ anything?" Draco yelled, suddenly becoming irrationally angry. "I'm just bloody standing there. Why are you showing me this, Granger?" he seethed, his chest rising and falling the longer he heard her screams.

"What were you supposed to do?" Hermione shrugged. She did not want to admit it, but hearing her screams awoke a pain in her gut that she had tried to drown out for months.

"No more...please," Draco's eyes were squeezed shut, his head turned in shame as his body ripped away from the Pensieve. 

He stumbled back into the table, his chest rising and falling heavily."You think that is why you trusted me? What the fuck was that Hermione?" Draco gasped. His chest felt tight, out of breath as though he had just been punched in the gut by a troll.

"Did you not see your face? Even now, you cannot handle what you saw because it is not a part of your nature."

"I just stood there…" Draco responded weakly. He felt nauseous as the memory replayed behind his closed eyelids.

"Draco…" Hermione took a step closer to the distraught man and rested a delicate hand on his shoulder. This time, he made no move to turn away from her, and he leaned into her reassuring touch. Hermione's heart thrummed loudly in her chest. Draco looked down at her eyes, and Hermione was surprised at the openly displayed guilt that was peering back at her. "I trusted you because something in me recognized the part of you that was trapped, and lonely. I've dreamt about that moment many times, and each time I see it, it's your eyes that make the biggest impression. You looked physically ill watching the violence. You struggled with it in a way that no other Death Eater would have."

Hermione saw his face tighten for a moment, and she took a small step forward, so her feet were nearly touching his. "Don't you see, Draco? This is the part of your memories you were missing. The part where you saw how torn apart it made you to be faced with killing Dumbledore. It's the part of you that couldn't go through with killing a man you knew was good, for a man you knew was evil. These moments from your sixth year are some of your most precious."

"I just wish I remembered," Draco admitted painfully. Somewhere during the last few days, Draco realized he was finding it easier to bear his soul to the stupidly courageous woman. "Seeing how you saw things leaves out my input. It's frustrating. It's like I can physically feel the darkness in my head where my memories should be, and it's painful to try and penetrate the shadows."

"I wish there was more I could do," Hermione whispered. It was her turn to feel guilty. What Draco had yet to see what his selflessness. Would he still feel this way knowing that he was the one who chose to give up his memories freely? He was right, without his inner monologue, he was missing half the story, a vital part of their journey going forward. Staring into his eyes, she could physically feel his frustration radiating through him.

Before Draco could respond, the door slammed open and a breathless Harry burst into the room. "I've made contact with Blaise. The Labyrinth. They are in the Labyrinth." Harry's eyes widened as he processed the scene before him. Hermione's hand was resting on Draco's shoulder, and the pair were only inches from one another.

Hermione and Draco both quickly took a step back from one another. Although their interaction had been innocent enough, Hermione's cheeks glowed a soft pink, and Draco could not meet Harry's eyes.

Harry looked at Hermione with a raised eyebrow, his green eyes wide. However, before Harry could comment on what he was seeing, Hermione gasped as she processed Harry's words. Her heart caught fire with agony, and the ache in the pit of her stomach almost dropped her to her knees.

She took an abrupt step towards Harry, pulling him towards the door.

"The Labyrinth? Harry, call all the members of the Order together… We have to go save them. _Now_."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. AM. BACK. I found a small sliver of motivation to complete this story. It still needs an endless amount of work, and I am painfully aware of the plotholes, choppy writing, and elementary mistakes I've made, but The Labyrinth is my first fanfic and I'll be damned if I leave it unfinished. With this chapter, I attempted to smooth over some of the plot holes. It's not perfect, but it'll do. 
> 
> I want to take a moment to thank the lovely, fantastic, kindest MCal. She took her very precious time and gave me feedback/ beta help for this chapter. Without her, this may have never been ready to post. Go check out her work, she really is FANTASTIC.
> 
> For all of you who have stuck by, left reviews and love on this story, I see you and I appreciate every single one of you. THANK YOU.
> 
> I now have a Tumblr. Check me out at AMJohnons0518 for updates on stories, snippets, mood boards, and more!
> 
> -AMJ

The hours spent waiting for Blaise to arrive at the cottage were maddening. Draco felt Hermione's leg nervously bouncing beside him on the couch and he watched as she nervously bit her nails down to the skin. Though unnerving to Draco, watching Hermione's incessant chewing was far better than trying to observe Harry, who had made him dizzy with his circular pacing of the room. Ron and Ginny sat huddled in the corner with Mrs. Weasley, who let out a series of loud sniffles, jarring the silence every few minutes.

When the fireplace roared to life, everyone in the room leapt to their feet and crowded the stone hearth.

"No need to fight, there is enough of me to go around," Blaise teased lightly, but his body remained tense. When his gaze landed on Draco, who was closely hovered over Hermione's shoulder, Blaise quirked an eyebrow. Even under the cloud of his somber mood, a genuine smile unfurled on his face. "Draco, excellent to see you here, mate. You look much better."

Draco simply nodded in response, awkward at the momentary attention. Sensing his discomfort, Hermione suggested everyone take a seat.

When the remaining Order members had again settled, Blaise cleared his throat. "Right then, let's get to it, I don't have long to speak. We have two weeks before we can go into the Labyrinth to retrieve Arthur, Remus, and Luna. To my knowledge, all are still alive and somewhere on level four with the rest of the prisoners."

"Two weeks?" Ginny cried out in frustration. "They are likely to be _dead_ by then. We have to try sooner. "

"I can't risk it," Blaise disagreed sharply. "This is the best you will get from me. It would be suicide to request a new shift time. The Dark Lord is still on edge over Draco and Hermione's recent escape. I can't risk giving away my position."

A chill settled over the room. It was easy to forget that Hermione and Draco were still being hunted daily by the Dark Lord.

"We won't push the issue then," Hermione agreed with a bleak nod. "Has he changed the Labyrinth at all, in light of our escape?" Hermione asked, her voice heavy with concern.

"Not that I am aware of," Blaise shrugged in regret. "He keeps everything close to himself now. Very few of us are let in the weaker he grows. There are rumors he's barely surviving. After he tried to kill Potter again, something changed in him."

"There's not much left of him to kill," Harry whispered angrily. "If he is truly down to one Horcrux, and himself, is it possible he could just waste away with enough time?"

"Theoretically, but it could take a very, very long time," Hermione stated gravely. "He won't die from this, just as he didn't last time."

"And we are no closer to finding any new Horcruxes," Ron moped. "We need to have a serious discussion about what our next plan is after we rescue my father and the others. We are running out of time, and we can't keep risking these insane missions with no plan forward."

Blaise nodded in agreement. "Merlin, forgive me for saying this, but Ron is right. Without a proper way to kill Voldemort, we are harpies being picked off one by one. If everyone you love dies, what is there left to fight for?"

"We are not giving up," Harry vehemently argued. "We are so close. If we don't end this, no one ever will, and regardless of how weak Voldemort is, he will continue to destroy everything we know."

Mrs. Weasley sniffled again. "Harry, dear, I can't bear to lose anyone else. It could be time to plan for us to hide more permanently until we have a better way to defeat him." Ginny wrapped an arm around her mother's shaking shoulders.

"We don't have to make a decision now, mate," Ron said as he held up his hands. "But we should discuss it."

Harry gnashed his teeth. "Let's focus on the rescue for now," he conceded.

Hermione noticed Draco was twisting his fingers under the table. He looked lost. When he finally met her gaze, she placed the emotion; guilt colored his pale features.

To ease her own urge to comfort him, Hermione turned her attention toward Blaise. "What do you need from us?"

"I need you to be focused on Horcrux hunting for the next two weeks, it might be the last chance we get. Unfortunately, it's likely the captured Order members will be interrogated about our two escapees. Do Arthur and Remus know occlumency?"

Molly shook her head sadly. "Not well at all, unfortunately. After the battle, there were very few people to teach us anymore," she said, her tone pitching upwards under the strain of her emotions.

"If Arthur and Remus are interrogated for information, it might be safest to plan on moving locations. The cottage may be compromised," Blaise warned severely. "I'll have the portkey ready at exactly midnight in two weeks' time. Defer to the same protocol we used to get Kingsley in. I'll try and make one more visit before then."

Blaise faced Harry and winced slightly at the remnants of Harry's typical stubbornness; his jaw was tense and he was grinding his teeth together. "We've run out of time, Harry. I know you want to end this, but there will never be an end if you all die this round. Perhaps the long game is the best strategy."

Hermione dropped her head into her hands. Two weeks was not nearly enough time to locate a Horcrux, not when they had no inkling of where to begin.

Blaise felt the tension in the room growing, and he stood from his seat. "I think it's time I go. If you change locations, you know how to contact me. And should anything change on my end, I'll inform you when I can."

Molly Weasley walked over to Blaise and enveloped him in a hug the way only a mother could. "Be safe, dear," she whispered into his shoulder.

"Blaise, thank you for everything." Though Harry's muscles were strained under the weight of his anger, he still patted Blaise on the back warmly.

From beneath Molly's hug, Blaise gave Draco a pointed look and nodded before stepping into the fire and disappearing from the room

The weight of the air intensified and Hermione found her breath sticking to the insides of her throat. They had to wait another two weeks. It felt impossibly long.

Everyone stood from the table. Hermione opened her mouth to speak as Ron passed, but he turned his head and ignored her. Ginny trailed behind him, but she lightly lifted her shoulder, as if telling Hermione to give him more time, and she too departed.

Regardless of Ginny's gesture, Hermione felt endless guilt for her lack of friendship with her former companion. His family had sacrificed so much for this cause, so much for her. Temper aside, she promised herself she would speak with him tomorrow.

"Harry," Hermione's voice caused him to pause in the doorway. "Draco had a suggestion that I haven't been able to get out of my head."

Harry's face grew impassive at the mention of Draco, but he turned to listen.

Hermione contemplated her words before speaking. "Voldemort chose Horcruxes that were significant, both to his power and his life. Do you think we haven't gone back far enough in Voldemort's history to find the last Horcrux?"

"Hermione, Dumbledore poured over every memory we have, it's impossible."

"Right, but what I am suggesting would be in a memory we don't have."

"And how the fuck are we supposed to analyze a memory we don't have?" Harry growled impatiently.

"It would be a happy memory, one from his days at the orphanage perhaps? Long before Hogwarts."

"We tried that already, remember? The orphanage is gone, there are no remains, and no objects left. He'd want to leave his muggle past behind him," Harry responded.

"Everyone has at least one happy memory of their childhood, and the fewer you have, the more valuable they become," Draco spoke softly, reading Hermione's thoughts. Harry looked over, as though he had forgotten the other man was still in the room. "What if there were one moment or thing from the orphanage that he cherished?"

"Let's say for a moment that we can locate a person who has memories of him at the orphanage, what are you going to find? I've seen his days from the orphanage, it's all bare. He owned nothing. He loathed the place."

"We won't know that without the memories of his time there." Hermione held her chin up, and clicked her teeth together in mild frustration. "Harry, I've been thinking, _how_ did Voldemort know this type of magic existed? It's not taught at Hogwarts, and it's unlikely he randomly stumbled upon it during his reading. So it begs the question of _how_ Voldemort even knew where to look for this type of magic. It's certainly specific, and very few wizards had even heard of it."

"I'm assuming you have a theory already," Draco pressed. He was invested in what Hermione was proposing, and he could see from the way that Harry's body had started to lean towards Hermione, he too was beginning to take interest in her thoughts.

"What if Voldemort unknowingly created a sort of Horcrux, but perhaps he did it earlier than we thought. Maybe there was a reason he knew to even look for soul magic in the first place. Almost as if he were trying to explain an inexplicable event in his childhood."

Harry balked, and his green eyes went wide in disbelief.

"That's insane," Draco coolly hissed, mirroring Harry's expression. "Do you understand the complexities of the magic? This isn't a child accidentally transfiguring a cup, or moving their toys around. This is dark, ancient, ritualistic magic, and it doesn't happen unintentionally."

Harry groaned and gripped his messy hair; he finally understood, and it made him feel enraged at how obvious it all seemed now. "But it _has_ happened before."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked sternly.

Hermione chimed in. "Voldemort unknowingly made a Horcrux of sorts the night he tried to kill Harry. Voldemort's killing curse rebounded off of Harry, because of a protection his mother had left behind. His soul, which was unstable from so many splits, instinctively sought out something living." Hermione saw a crease form on Draco's forehead. "Harry was an accidental Horcrux. Well," Hermione corrected herself, "He wasn't a full Horcrux. Voldemort hadn't cast all the ritualistic magic necessary to create a proper receptacle in Harry. Harry was in many ways different from the other Horcruxes, more rudimentary, less powerful, decidedly less evil. That's what I'm suggesting here. Not a full Horcrux, but a small, first attempt, something that would have led Tom on a journey towards seeking out more."

"You're saying he made a Horcrux without meaning to...in… in Potter?" Draco looked utterly flabbergasted.

"Precisely," Hermione confirmed.

"Potter houses a piece of the Dark Lord's soul?" Draco murmured darkly.

"No," Harry forcefully denied.

"Not anymore. I'll explain that to you when we have more time," Hermione promised, and Draco's heart momentarily sped up at the casual turn of their relationship; he felt trusted. "What's essential now," Hermione continued, "is that I'm suggesting that he made _another_ one, perhaps on accident, and much earlier in his life."

"That would have required him to murder someone before he arrived at Hogwarts," Harry argued.

"Or during one of his summer breaks. It's a start," Hermione responded with a crisp finality. "It's one of the few things we haven't tried, and, with only two weeks…" her voice trailed off. "Couldn't we locate another child who was at the orphanage with him? Someone who had memories of Tom?"

"It's going to be nearly impossible. Dumbledore couldn't manage it."

"Dumbledore didn't have me," Hermione said with a sense of renewed confidence. "Tomorrow, gather all the memories we have of the orphanage, and we can start there. I'll begin researching the children that passed through at the same time as Tom." Hermione sucked her lip between her teeth. "I might need to visit a muggle library. It could help me locate the children faster."

"No," Harry disagreed. "It's too risky."

"We're out of time." Hermione vehemently shook her head. "It must get done, or else Blaise is right, Harry- we will have to put everything on hold until we destroy the Horcrux. We can't win without a plan," Hermione finished sadly, her words cracking at the edges. "Not this time."

"Hermione, we are chasing nothing but hunches-"

"Which is how we located nearly all of the others-"

"Fine," Harry agreed solemnly, knowing he lost the battle against his stubborn friend. "Tomorrow we go through some old memories, and we will somehow get you to a library, but _only if_ it is safe. "

Hermione bumped her shoulder against his in reassurance. "We'll figure this out, Harry. We always do."

Tipping his head to give a curt nod, Harry disappeared through the doorway, leaving Draco and Hermione in the living room alone.

Draco was unusually solemn, and the mask he slipped so easily upon his face was cracking at the seams.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" Hermione whispered, careful not to startle him too quickly out of wherever his mind had traveled.

"I'm more expensive than that Granger," Draco responded with a humorless smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, I'm not made of money," Hermione quipped.

Draco stared at his hands' which were capable of killing and torture and causing chaos. "Mrs. Weasley doesn't deserve to feel this," Draco began, thinking of her warm hug for Blaise. "She's unbelievably kind."

His own mother was so outwardly different, but her ability to know the right things to do or say in his times of need was uncanny. "Since I've arrived, she's brought me food, and always seems to know how to care for me. She's a good mother."

Hermione listened closely, hanging on the inflections behind his every word. "You're not the only one with Weasley guilt," Hermione murmured. "What prompted this?"

"I can't help but think of my part in the Dark Lord's rise." Draco paused in contemplation. "And now Blaise, who should have never been involved in any of this, is risking his life. We should be running far away from this, Granger. All of us."

"You have a choice now, to right any wrongs of your past. Do you think Mrs. Weasley cares that Blaise has a mark on his arm? Or that Snape did before him? We've gone over this before, you aren't responsible for what Voldemort does. You can only control your own actions," Hermione passionately reassured him. "Do you want to run?"

"Very much so," Draco admitted, ashamed of the cowardice he had inherited from his father. "We should all be trying to live, and instead you're making every decision that leads us towards death… towards the Labyrinth."

"No one will force you to go into the Labyrinth," Hermione avowed. "You're not a part of this if you don't want to be."

"I don't," Draco said with astounding honesty. "But you're wrong, for once, Hermione. I am very much a part of this. This is my choice. It's bloody stupid, and I'll probably die with the rest of you lot, but it's the only decision I feel right making," Draco revealed.

Hermione gazed up at Draco with intensity. "You're brave, Draco," And then, like she could read his inner heartstrings, "Despite what I've called you in the past, you're no coward. You've just never been given the opportunity to be who you are," she finished softly.

Draco's cheeks tinged a slight pink. "No need to get sappy, Granger," he muttered.

Hermione chuckled but chose to end his suffering by changing the subject. "I'd like it if you assisted Harry and I. If we can locate any of Voldemort's old classmates at the orphanage, we could use an extra set of eyes on any memories we reclaim."

Draco nodded, his eyes brightening at the prospect of having something to do during the day besides sit with his thoughts. "I can do that," he accepted earnestly.

"Good," Hermione breathed, and she was truly pleased. The progress he had made this week was remarkable. Flashes of his old personality were coming back into focus. "I'm going to rest. I'll see you in the morning," she said as she got to her feet, leaving Draco to continue reflecting on his new role.

* * *

It was late into the witching hour when Draco knocked at Hermione's bedroom door softly.

"Granger?" He quietly called out. "Are you awake?"

Less than a moment passed before the door swung open. A casually dressed, barefoot woman appeared. The hem of her shirt grazed the tops of her thighs, and her night shorts were mostly covered by the worn t-shirt, showing off a significant amount of her legs. Draco's stomach flipped, and he fought against his own eyes, battling to keep focused on her face.

Her brow furrowed at his strained expression. "Is everything alright?"

Draco tugged at the ends of his platinum hair. "I've been thinking about what Blaise said tonight, and I believe we may not have much longer to uncover my memories."

Hermione dropped her chin towards her chest. "You're probably right. I'm so sorry there wasn't more I could give you," she whispered regretfully.

"That's not what I mean," Draco chastised. "I know you've done far more than you should, and I'm thankful for your help." Draco lifted his eyes and held her surprised stare. "I'm not ready to give up trying yet. I want to finish what we've started. I want to go back in your memories."

"We still have a long way to go," Hermione said, and she bit her lip in torment. If she were to go into her memories now, she'd see Kingsley's insides covering her skin. Certainly, the image would turn her off from finding sleep. And, she'd have to show Draco their moments together growing more intimate. She'd have to reveal pieces of him that may never return. It was panic-inducing.

"Then we should be using every moment we have left," Draco countered gently. "Please, Hermione," Draco pleaded.

The way her name rolled off his breath woke the fluttering in Hermione's chest. Her jaw tensed with resolve. "Fine. The last few days of our journey were difficult, and I don't know how much we will be able to cover. By tomorrow Harry and I will be using the Pensieve to pick through Voldemort's memories again."

"Then what are we waiting for? You're not planning on actually sleeping tonight, are you?" Draco challenged.

Hermione rolled her eyes upward. Achieving slumber was an amusing concept after their discussion earlier. "Let me grab a jumper and some shoes," Hermione sighed heavily, anxious about what the next memories would uncover in her relationship with Draco.

Draco appreciated her outfit change on their walk up the stairs; her bare legs had been unnecessarily distracting to him, and the heat it built in his veins was unnerving.

But, that heat was quickly forgotten as he was plunged back into Hermione's memory of the Labyrinth. The dark shadows felt bitterly stifling, regardless that it was only an image.

Hermione shivered with dreadful anticipation.

They were back in Hagrid's hut. In her memory, Hermione saw Draco's fingers were curled around her neck, as his image recovered slowly from his nightmare.

The real Draco beside her had the decency to look embarrassed. "Sorry," he muttered softly, but Hermione only shook her head in quick forgiveness and continued watching the memory.

_"Here, I say we follow the edge of the forest around until we get to the lake. A simple bubblehead charm should suffice while we reach the middle of the lake."_ Hermione's image took charge.

" _Hold on a moment, Granger. How do we know this isn't a trap? I mean... Who the fuck leaves plans to the Dark Lord's very secret prison just lying out in the middle of a table in the middle of a hut, in the middle of a bloody fake forest? I don't trust it._ "

"Smart," Draco quipped beside her with a grin. "Please tell me we don't take the map."

"Shh," Hermione tutted. "Just watch."

The pair in the memory took quick note of Voldemort's Labyrinth, making snide remarks at the danger that lay ahead on their journey. From this vantage point, Hermione was finally able to take note of how close Draco subconsciously yearned to be, even when she thought he distrusted her; in the Labyrinth, his body was never more than inches from her own, and though cold, his eyes danced over her body time and time again.

_"Those are Kingsley Shacklebolt's initials. Draco, this map is from the order."_

_"Or, it's a trap. We need to leave it. We have all we can get from it anyway."_

_"I know that. But it means there could be members of the order down here right now. Maybe that's why my cell opened."_

"I'm glad you listened to me. The map was very clearly a trap," Draco asserted as they followed the memory back into the forest, where the sound of werewolves carried in the stagnant darkness. The pair watched on as the sounds of the wolves grew closer, and Draco's image hastily shoved Hermione's body into a hollowed-out tree to hide from the impending danger.

Watching the vision, Draco was acutely aware of how his body had looked pressed against hers. The space felt intimate, with his hands pressed on either side of her face, and his chest firmly against hers. He raised his eyebrows and saw that beside him, Hermione was flushed, eyes keenly observing their closeness with longing. It set his stomach into another short flurry of internal weightlessness.

_"How the fuck have two kids gotten this far? The whole forest is bloody filled with werewolves." A cold voice sneered. "The Dark Lord is getting impatient. He punished Goyle last night, stupid git didn't check the hut. Heard he's going to be out of commission for a week."_

After the werewolves moved on, they again ran through the forest, chasing after the vision.

"Can't you speed this up?" Draco huffed out impatiently. "As much as I _love_ running...I don't."

But Hermione had gone silent, and her nostrils flared under the pressure of her heavy breathing. Horror dangled in her copper eyes, like a pendulum counting down impending doom.

When Hermione heard the gut-wrenching squelch of her body landing in Kingsley's internal organs, she screamed and turned, covering her ears. The memory stopped, frozen in time as Hermione regained her breathing. Concerned, Draco knelt beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder cautiously.

"We can skip this, if you'd like. There's no need for you to relive this," he gently encouraged. His heart was tearing at the sight of her small, shivering body, and tightly clenched fingers. Part of him had wanted to scream as well; the grotesque image was more than he could handle. The blood soaked into the ground, and a head lay cast off to the side. Hermione's image was coated in bits of flesh and bone. Certainly, it was easy to discern why she had avoided seeing this particular moment. He guessed it was what kept her up pacing throughout the night.

"I knew this was coming, but the sound…" she choked for air, and Draco rubbed small circles on her back in an attempt to calm her. "It's all too real," she shook.

After a moment, when Hermione's breathing had slowed, the memory once again sprang to life, giving him little time to process the scene. Draco watched as the memory of him soothing her unfolded. His gentle words then had encouraged Hermione forward just as his words now did the same.

_"Just keep your eyes on me okay? We are so close to the water. We have to keep moving."_

_"Hermione, going back will not change this. Nothing will change this." Draco lifted her chin so she met his eyes. His tone was even, yet stern. Her lashes were soaked with tears. "They would not want you to die here. Just a bit further, okay?"_

Using his arm as a crutch, Hermione steadied herself by gripping tightly at his skin. It caused an uncomfortable shift in gravity within his core, and his stomach felt as though it were floating in his chest.

The memory lurched forward, clearly skipping over more details of Kingsley's demise, but Draco knew better than to protest. This was hers to share, and he was lucky to witness it at all.

Once the world righted itself around them once more, they were standing next to the mirror image of the Black Lake. Swiftly, both were encased in bubblehead charms, and they walked into the water.

It was an odd sensation, plunging into the memory of water. Draco's instinct was to hold his breath as they followed the memory deeper under the lake, but to his pleasant surprise, when he finally sucked in a breath of air, he was perfectly able to breathe.

"This is weird," Hermione muttered beside him, also choking on perfectly good air.

"Agreed," Draco concurred as they descended deeper into the water. He barely noticed the struggle of the thin, exhausted images of themselves, for his focus was still on the real woman beside him. "Are you alright?"

"Never better," Hermione sarcastically quipped, and she ignored the look of pity Draco cast her from out of the corner of her eye.

When they were attacked by grindylows, Draco had the sudden urge to bat them away. Each time teeth or claws sunk into her skin, Hermione winced at the memory of the pain, and it was becoming hard for Draco to watch the blood suspended in the water. When at last they reached the underwater home of the merpeople, Draco's heart thunderously roared in his ears. He wanted to joke with Hermione about the lack of ferocity of merpeople, but when he saw the spears and their pointed teeth, he bit back his comment.

The first riddle was spoken, and Draco deadpanned.

With a slack jaw, and crossed arms, Draco asked in disbelief, "Is this a joke?"

Hermione barked out a short laugh. "I wish it were. I truly did not think we would make it past this point."

Riddles were unnecessarily cumbersome, and often were an illogical waste of time. Draco hated to think that starved and battered as they were, they could have easily been killed for a mistake as simple as a wrong answer.

Draco was awestruck at Hermione's brilliantly quick mind, and her ability to process the first two riddles. When at last the final riddle was said, Draco's throat grew tight.

_"If you break me I do not stop working, If you touch me I may be snared, If you lose me, nothing will matter. What am I?"_

_Hermione looked at Draco, panic written across her face._ Draco could easily tell she did not know the answer, and though he knew they survived this encounter, his palms became sweaty.

_The merpeople began closing in around them, their spears at the ready. Dozens of yellow eyes focused on the two humans._

_"A Heart!"_

Draco wanted to cheer in relief. He watched them escape the level, and then the world shifted and swirled around him. Draco could not rid himself of the off floating sensation even as his feet touched back on the wooden floorboards of the cottage.

With a tremble in her tone, Hermione cut the silence of the room. "I think this is a good place to stop for the evening."

Draco turned in time to see her crumpling face. "Are you alright?" Draco asked cautiously, and he took a step toward her.

Hermione wiped a tear from her eye. "The entire time I was in the Labyrinth, I worried about my friends on the outside. Seeing that was like seeing months of nightmares come to life. And now Arthur and Remus and Luna..." her voice broke.

"Were you close with Kingsley?"

Hermione nodded. "I looked up to him, as a mentor. For a time, I wanted to work for the Ministry, and follow in his footsteps, at least until I realized my passion for healing. When the Order came back, he was so kind to us. He always felt it important to keep us updated on information, even though not everyone trusted us to know it."

"That's how I felt when Severus died," Draco said, and Hermione felt his understanding radiate through his words. "It was one of the hardest losses I had experienced, until…"

Until his mother. But the words were too heavy to rise up his throat.

Hermione wiped another stray tear. "We're a fantastic mess, aren't we?" she mused, thinking it wise to avoid the topic of Narcissa if he did not wish to speak of it.

Draco gave a soft smile. "Speak for yourself," he teased, to which he was rewarded with Hermione's soft giggle.

"Do you have any other questions...about what happened?"

Draco shook his head. "I became more expressive. Each memory becomes a bit easier to read," he said in a tone that neared content. "It's strange, though," Draco continued, "Our touches were becoming casual, and I didn't seem to mind your presence," he said, thinking back to his embrace of her while she cried over Kingsley's remains. It did not puzzle him as he thought it would. If he had seen this memory last week, he would not have believed it to be real.

"Months without physical contact was one of the hardest parts of the Labyrinth. It's like it siphons all the love and companionship right from your soul. It's endlessly lonely," Hermione explained. "I know it may seem odd, but, at least for me, your touch was a reminder that good still existed, and that people could still be kind."

She lifted her hand to brush his hair out of his face. In response, Draco subconsciously leaned into her fingers. It was true, he missed the feel of physical contact, and instinctively, he seemed to be seeking hers out. He lifted his fingers to her chin, and dragged a finger down her cheek.

He flushed a deep pink. "It's peculiar. Physically, my body," he swallowed a short breath, "it remembers your touch. But mentally, it's sometimes still as though I'm a boy at Hogwarts and we have no history to stand on other than our heated words."

Hermione thought about that prospect for a moment and pulled her hand back from his hair. It was unfair of her to seek out his comfort when he had no idea of how their relationship would progress.

"Do you think there is a way I'll ever get my memories back?" Draco asked, looking more vulnerable than he had in weeks.

Hermione chewed her bottom lip. "I dunno," she murmured with an honestly that hurt in Draco's ears. "I'm worried we won't even make it through my memories before we lose access to the Pensieve. We're no longer safe here." Hermione wrapped her thin arms around her chest.

Draco pursed his lips. " Where will we go?"

Hermione closed her eyes to contain her fear. "I dunno that either." It caused an unpleasant clench in her stomach, that made her feel ill. She needed to clear her head before she could answer that important, urgent question. "It's time for bed, I think."

"Granger-" The softness of his eyes captured hers.

"What?"

"Be careful tomorrow, if you go to the library," he said softly, unleashing all the emotion he normally kept hidden away. "You're being hunted. They would do anything to put you back in the Labyrinth. It's… I don't want to see you back there."

"I'll be safe, I promise," Hermione replied easily, grateful he was starting to care again, even if only in small moments. "Stay out of trouble yourself," Hermione teased back.

"Oh yes, the possibilities for danger here are endless," Draco quipped sarcastically with a playful roll of his silver eyes. "Find me when you return."

"I promise," she agreed. Hermione gave a slight smile and Draco stood to walk her back to her room.

Though she knew she should be focused only on the mission before them, her heart felt a momentary peace thanks to the softening Slytherin. With a plan in motion and her session with Draco ending in success, Hermione hoped she could find a few moments of rest to prepare for tomorrow's daunting task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE YOU HAVE IT! After a very long wait, I hope this was mostly worth it! I can't promise quick updates for The Labyrinth, but I can promise it WILL get done.
> 
> I have another WIP called The Alliance that I am so excited to share. I update once a month (with another chapter being released next weekend!). This story is planned, and I am loving the writing process for it. See my profile for more info, and to catch up before the new update.
> 
> -AMJ

**Author's Note:**

> From here on out, I will be discarding the original author's notes that I posted with this story on FFN. I'll post a new chapter every few days with minor grammar edits, leading up to the reveal of Chapter 12 in mid-august. This story will be nearly the same as the one that is posted on FFN, with an additional run-through of Grammarly. 
> 
> Check out The Alliance in the meantime! It's my new WIP, that I *actually* planned well and am excited about!


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